


Remember Me

by GreenGroove



Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 14:44:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 52,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20229592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenGroove/pseuds/GreenGroove
Summary: Shortly after arriving to La Huerta, Estela and F!Taylor realize there's a connection between them. They don't quite realize how deep that connection goes, nor how necessary it will become.





	1. Something About Her

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of this story, my timeline will be more stretched out than the canon timeline of events. 
> 
> Chapter 1: In which Estela and Taylor get stuck in their heads and wrestle with sexual tension.

It had been about three days since arriving to La Huerta. Long enough for cliques to start to form within the group, though not yet long enough to establish a true sense of unity. Yet.

Taylor yawned as she trudged through The Celestial; it was early morning, which meant it was prime time for exercise before everyone else woke up. She made a vain attempt to push the nonstop La Huerta-brand chaos out of her mind for the time being. Though there didn’t seem to be a sensical thread connecting all of the events so far, she knew they certainly weren’t just coincidental. Any downtime had to be forced in, and if the price of peace meant waking up an hour earlier, Taylor was happy to take it.

Upon reaching the lobby designated for a multi-level gym and swimming pool, she started to search behind the deserted gym receptionist’s desk for towels to place in her bag. Though it had only been a few days since she’d discovered this area, it had quickly become a respite; a place of safety, escape, and introspection.

Walking through the door to one of the fitness rooms, Taylor heard the sound of arrhythmic tapping and light grunts. For the first time, she wasn't alone.

It looked like the “mysterious hottie,” as Diego had called her, was training on a dummy - a few prolonged glances told her it looked like a mixed martial art technique, sort of a hodge-podge of styles. As Taylor put her stuff against one of the corners of the room, she couldn’t seem to stop glancing over at her accidental gym partner, impressed at the wider breadth of fighting skill than she had guessed. Clearly, Estela was scrappy and deadly in her own way, this just solidified the world of hurt any enemy of hers would have in a real fight. Despite hardly knowing her, Taylor felt a little proud, watching her hone her deadly craft.

It was strange; though Taylor didn’t know much about her, she certainly felt Estela was a familiar presence in this workout room. And that… didn’t make sense. Maybe there had been a few dreams with her featuring, but Taylor hadn’t really interacted with her in-person enough to forge a sense of familiarity.

Taylor bit her lip. The thought to ask Estela to join her -- or, rather, the other way around -- was tempting. It could be a great way to get to know her, but…? Taylor didn’t want to think of the risks, but had to consider them: she could drive Estela further away from friendship, piss her off, lose what inkling of trust they had… She shook her head in an attempt to forget the thought altogether, taking out a water bottle and taking a swig. _Well, whatever. It’s not like she’d want to train with me or teach me to fight like... THAT._

Why would Estela be interested, anyway? She looked perfectly in-the-zone, and Taylor didn’t want to disrupt her. Deciding it was worth the risk, Taylor stole another quick look as she set the water bottle down with her bag. Estela was kinda mesmerizing; she was bouncing and jabbing at the rubber training dummy with constant speed and power, yet it didn’t seem like she was remotely winded.

The mirrors in the studio caught Taylor’s eye; much to her own embarrassment, she caught herself staring. Staring at someone who clearly wanted to be left alone. _Despite how enticing she might be… _What? No! The night -- or rather, 20 minutes -- spent stargazing made it crystal clear that Estela had her own agenda, and becoming friends with anyone here was not exactly penciled into her busy schedule.

Taylor took to the other side of the room and started to warm-up with stretches. Developing controlled breathing while building endurance were her main priorities, and she started to slip into a counting routine as she moved through her stretches--

Wait.

Was--? Did Estela just glance at her? _My eyes are just playing tricks on me._

Becoming suddenly aware of butterflies forming in her stomach, Taylor took a moment before glancing back. Estela had already turned away, seeking out her own water bottle as she took a breather from beating up on that dummy.

“I can tell when you’re staring, you know.”

Well, there went the controlled breathing. _No! I’m not! ...Was I?_ Taylor exhaled a bit louder than she’d wanted, making it obvious to the both of them that she’d be unintentionally holding her breath.

_She’s JUST training. Chill out, Tay._ Estela had turned back to face Taylor, and strolled back up to the dummy she was training on. Her hands were taped, and that tape looked scuffed already. _How long was she training before I arrived?_

“Waiting for the show to start?”

Taylor grimaced, feeling a blush creep up. _What's wrong with me?_ Controlled breathing. That was what she was here for: endurance and controlled breathing. That’s all.

_She’s probably mad, or creeped out. Or annoyed. Guess the least I should do is apologize._

But when she looked up at “Mysterious Hottie™” to say something, the anger she expected to find wasn’t there. Surprisingly, there was a smirk coupled with a raised eyebrow and a look of… intrigue?

Taylor’s face burned. That look. That _look!_ That quiet, smug confidence. God, if only she were to...

_No! What are you thinking, Tay? Seriously? Do you want to ruin BOTH of your work-outs? Just let her have her peace._ It was hard enough to come by, anyway. Of all people, Estela deserved to enjoy the time she has to herself, at least. Taylor put on a resolve to ignore Estela. _Focus on BREATHING._

At hearing a laugh, Taylor instinctively glanced back over, and--Oh wow, those are definitely abs.

_Focus on controlled--_

Estela walked over, the smuggest she had looked so far on this trip. Though, perhaps that wasn’t saying much, since Taylor hadn’t exactly seen a whole lot of her in the few days they’d been here. The closer Estela approached, the more Taylor felt her heart rate increase.

_\--BREATHING._

“Do you want help, or what?”

The sounds that came out of Taylor just made Estela snicker. At seeing a flying projectile, Taylor quickly focused in time to catch it. _Tape?_

“Wrap up. I’ll meet you over by the dummy.”

With that, she turned to walk back. As Taylor started to tape her hands, she huffed in silent defeat, as if she had just lost a game with herself to see if she could retain -- or regain -- composure around Estela and her… yep, those are back muscles. _Taylor, FOCUS._

As she finished up, she willed herself to calm down, wondering what it was about Estela that made her heart want to flutter. _At least there’s no question now about whether or not she’d train with me…_ Though, if it was only because of interrupting her, was it really a good thing? Taylor frowned. _I bet it’s only because I threw her off-guard. Good going, me._

Taylor headed over to Estela, who had her arms crossed. Searching for something witty, or maybe a sheepish apology to lighten the mood, Taylor opened her mouth to break her side of the ice with something that was sure to impress.

“Uh. Hi.”

Estela smirked. “Yeah. Hi.” She took the tape from Taylor and tossed it off to the side. “It looked like you might benefit from some one-on-one time.”

Breathing out evenly, Taylor took the bait. “Was my warm-up not in good enough form?” _Oh no, that sounded a little too confrontational. I don’t want to get on her--_

“I think the only thing being warmed-up was…” Estela paused, giving Taylor a once-over. “...Not what you intended.” Coupled with a small laugh, that smug smirk just grew.

_She’s definitely making fun of me._ Taylor did her best to hide a pout. It’s not _her_ fault that Estela _just so happened_ to have defined, glistening abs, and--

“You are quite the interesting one,” Estela declared, eyebrow raised. “If you wanted me to help teach you fight, you can just ask, you know.”

“Uh… yeah! Yeah, I just. Didn’t mean to interrupt you! Yep!” Taylor added a sheepish smile. Deflecting helped with the nerves. Maybe she’d buy it.

Estela narrowed her eyes, not buying it. “Clearly, with me, you wanted _something._ Why else keep staring at me? There are mirrors lining that wall,” Estela jerked her thumb towards the wall behind the dummy. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? Why not just be upright and _ask?_” She shifted her weight as she waited for Taylor to be forthright.

Taylor’s strategy currently included playing off whatever… flustered feelings she felt as social anxiety; it seemed to be the best course of action. It wasn’t completely dishonest -- it was just that training with Estela seemed too good to ever actually come true.

“I’ll keep it in mind, next time,” Taylor nodded, wanting to move on. Perhaps, Estela didn’t actually realize _why_ she was staring to begin with? ...Not that it was a topic Taylor really wanted to broach; she felt gross whenever she found herself staring. Gawking at attractive women was a job reserved for the grossest of meatheads… like Craig. Estela deserved better, and Taylor didn't want to really be associated with meatheads that’d willingly associate with Craig.

With a suspicious stare, Estela took the hint and, reluctantly, decided to drop it.

“Let’s work on your stance. Position a leg behind you, bend your knees, and distribute your weight evenly.” Estela moved into a defensive stance as an example. “You want to keep your center of gravity low to act as an anchor,” Estela instructed. Taylor studied Estela and moved to copy the pose.

“No -- your legs are too far apart. Even if you’re centered _now_, a stance that’s too wide won’t serve you in battle; it makes it even easier for an enemy to knock you off-balance. In movement, especially, but, hell, even when standing still!"

And, without pause, Estela couched low and spun her leg out, sweeping out Taylor's back leg from under her. Taylor was thoroughly caught off-guard and landed ungracefully on the mat with an "_Oof!_"

“_Hey!_” Taylor cried out, indignant. A wrapped hand was offered to help her back to her feet, which was quickly taken.

There was a familiar sternness in Estela’s face. She spoke with a dangerously low voice, “You need to be prepared, Taylor. For _anything_. Survival is top priority, and compromising that because of basic form mistakes?” She shook her head, eyes looking surprisingly cold. “I won’t tolerate it.”

Turning back to the dummy, Estela seemed to be somewhere distant. "Sometimes," she started, voice quiet, "that's all it takes to become incapacitated by the enemy: a weak stance." There was a bitterness to her voice that Taylor could only guess was out of grief. She noticed Estela visibly shudder, which seemed to work in snapping herself out of the unpleasant memory.

_Taylor will not be a sitting duck on this hellscape of an island if I have anything to say about it_. If Estela could lower the amount of casualties this island saw during their stay, that would make her feel better about their current survival prospects. Though, it's not as if Estela had any misgivings about the danger she would knowingly be in by stepping on that plane; with her plans to walk straight into the lion's den, so to speak, she knew it would be pure luck to draw breath after that encounter.

Glancing at Taylor deeper than an instructor would when purely judging form, Estela sighed. Taylor seemed like a nice person -- someone who had potential to _be_ someone. People like that deserve a fair shot at living. Although Quinn also fell into that category, Estela couldn’t reverse the cruel hand the universe oftens gives people; the best she could do is arm someone like Taylor with the tools necessary to turn their own tides. With what little time she had left before her fated meeting with Rourke, Estela wanted to ensure that Taylor had the best chance possible of having a future.

Hearing the loud sigh, Taylor looked up and noted the dark look landscaping Estela’s features. This wasn’t just training to Estela - it was a means to promise survival in life or death situations. And, although it had only been a few days, there had been a group-wide accumulating dread that the worst was yet to come. Estela chose to trust that instinct and prepare and Taylor knew it’d be best to follow suit -- just in case. Taylor finally managed to focus, honing in on what Estela was saying, and, after a few minutes of different demonstrations, attempted a basic defensive stance again.

Estela paused to analyze Taylor’s form. The scrutiny in those usually-cold eyes made Taylor’s heart quicken, again. They weren’t cold, this time, but that didn’t slow Taylor’s heart.

“Good,” Estela nodded. “Now,” she gestured at the dummy, “Show me what you can do.”

Taylor squared up. She attempted to mask her insecurities with a steely, cool expression; she had never thrown a punch before! Gulping down her nerves, she reared her arm back to throw a punch. She threw her arm forward and... hesitated right before coming in contact with the dummy.

Estela took a second to bite her tongue. When Taylor looked back at her -- _Hmm, Taylor looks cute when she’s bashful..._ \-- Estela simply made a curt nod towards the dummy, in a way to say ‘Okay, that sucked, but try again.’

It took her a number of tries to get past psyching herself out and successfully land a punch without hesitating, but Taylor actually did it! She had no idea if it was correct technique or not, but she was honestly proud of herself just to work up the courage to _try_ in front of someone so experienced.

Though she was expecting another lecture -- and maybe another sucker punch --, Taylor didn’t get one. She looked at Estela in surprise as, instead, her impromptu teacher started talking through what a proper punch looked like.

“Good, we now know you can work past your own fears and connect a punch when you need to." She placed her hands on her hips and frowned. "Surprisingly, not many people can do it when it comes to a real fight; they think it’s easier than it actually is.” Estela shook her head, then went back into teaching-mode.

“Thing is, if you continue punching like that, you could actually sprain a knuckle or two if you hit hard and fast enough,” Estela explained. She demonstrated a right-right-left hook boxing combo at full-speed, then dialed it back to just a singular punch at varying, exponentially slowing speeds. While doing this, she pointed out things for Taylor to look for in her own punch.

A few minutes later, Taylor started to find her rhythm in taking jabs at the dummy. It actually felt… pretty good! Cathartic, even.

“Remember to be light on your feet; a real enemy wouldn’t let you stand still,” Estela advised. She demonstrated how to move about and throw a punch while retaining eye contact with the opponent. Taylor did her best to follow along, ruefully ignoring any feelings of attraction that threatened to bubble up to the surface.

They continued, switching off between Estela demonstrating and Taylor doing her best to replicate. After about a half hour, Taylor’s hands started to ache. Estela noticed her student trying to shake off some of the soreness. _Right, she’s new to this_, Estela reminded herself. Perhaps it was time to switch gears.

“Okay, uh, good. Take a second to rest.“ Estela started unwrapping the tape on her hands, considering something as she gazed at the floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining the opposite wall. “Maybe it’d be best to try some moves over there, where you can watch your form,” and before Taylor could blink, Estela was already jogging over to lay down mats by the mirrors.

Taylor unwrapped her own tape, shaking her hands after noticing how red her fingers were. She was glad to have a seasoned teacher; by herself, she could have sustained much worse than redness had she continued to throw punches with bad form. And, it seemed, Estela made sure that wasn't going to happen. Taylor smiled to herself; maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to, but the speed of which Estela would correct her mistakes made her feel… protected, somehow. As if Estela cared whether she lived or died.

...As if Estela really cared for her. _Despite her telling me she couldn't allow herself to._

She looked over to find where Estela had tossed her own used tape to add to the pile, and noticed a worn staff lying on the ground close-by. _Good lord, how long was she here before me? She trained with a staff and **still** hadn’t been winded by the time I came in?!_

Taylor couldn't help but gawk, wondering how many styles of fighting Estela had proficiency in. Estela was like the group's secret weapon! No one else had a clue what Estela could do -- they likely underestimated her due to her small size… which seemed nothing less than a deadly mistake, especially since Estela seemed clever enough to use that to her advantage. _The next time La Huerta throws something horrible at us, it better watch out - Estela will kick this island's ass by her damn self._

Taylor grinned at the thought. _Somehow. She'd find a way._ She giggled to herself at the image of Estela suplexing a volcano and ran over to join her new teacher.

Estela started to teach basic moves and Taylor studied closely; it was already nearing late morning, but neither of them seemed to notice, nor care, lost in what they were doing, lost in each other’s company. Estela’s respect for Taylor’s willingness for self-improvement was growing, and Taylor’s admiration for Estela’s seemingly endless skill-cap was ever-shining.

“If you want to catch someone off-guard in a one-on-one, the best way is to quickly lunge forward, bending your knees to lower your frame as you strike.” Taylor’s brow furrowed. Estela noticed her confusion and nodded to herself.

“Watch me.”

Estela started off in a defensive stance, then suddenly lunged forward, lowering her height as she struck the air in front of her with a sharp exhale. Without looking at Taylor, she commented, “Your enemy will have a much harder time seeing you coming if you crouch into the blow than if you were to start low and end in a taller stance.”

She patted the leg that was out in front. “This means building up muscles around your knees, because you’re quickly shifting your weight to lunge as fast as possible to catch your enemy off-guard. Notice my back leg drags along with the movement.”

Taylor just stared. She had never actually seen Estela in shorts before. Shorts that just so happened to show off how defined her leg muscles were, especially as she tensed them in her demonstrations.

Her mouth worked wordlessly as Estela looked back, waiting for acknowledgement. At noticing Taylor’s… re-surfacing problem, she made a face.

“Okay… what? Do you need me to explain again?” Estela’s eyes searched Taylor’s face for an answer. Realizing she wasn’t going to get one, she turned back to the mirror and replicated the same strike.

Suddenly, a memory played out in Taylor’s mind’s eye:  
  


* * *

  
_Both Estela and Taylor, kissing. Rapid breathing taken over by increasingly fervent kissing. Heat, sweat, writhing, gasping, feeling..._  
  


* * *

  
It was hard to recall how or why they were there. Were they on Taylor’s bed? Come to think of it, Taylor couldn’t remember it _actually happening…_ but it felt so familiar, somehow. It had to be a daydream... a really specific daydream, that’s all.

“I--”

Estela dropped her stance and turned to face Taylor, annoyance on her face.

“Well? You’re looking at me again with that… face.” Estela’s eyes narrowed out of confusion. What was Taylor’s issue? She was attentive one minute, and the next… back to this. She understood she gave off an intimidating aura that made others nervous -- it was something she built-up over time and prided herself on. But, this didn’t add up; she already agreed to help, what else could be making Taylor act this way?

Taylor’s lips were parted and her eyes glassy. Did she need water?

It looked like Taylor needed a bit of time. Giving Taylor a few moments to collect herself -- it was probably just an overload of information, after all -- Estela went to retrieve Taylor’s water bottle.

Taylor -- struggling to snap back to reality from that… daydream... _memory?..._\-- was grateful for the extra time to let her brain malfunction. It wasn’t the first time Taylor experienced a ...steamy, vivid daydream since arriving -- usually, they would show up in dreams -- but it was the first time for it to happen in front of the person it was featuring.

...Which was Estela. It was _always_ Estela.

She fully ‘came to’ to witness Estela walking away from her, heading towards the other side of the room. The way Estela walked… it had this confidence, almost a swagger, but yet had a poise about it. It was hard to explain. Estela was hard to explain. The effect Estela had on Taylor was hard to explain.

Suddenly, Taylor had an impulsive urge to tell Estela about the weird feelings she had been getting from the “daydreams” -- despite how embarrassing it’d be. Maybe Estela had also experienced these “daydreams” and Taylor wasn’t alone! On one hand, it might be good to talk about and get a second opinion on. Taylor felt a little crazy; they didn’t _feel_ like normal daydreams. No, these felt like there was some strange weight behind them.

Taylor frowned. On second thought, maybe it wasn’t a good idea. Estela would probably just be disgusted. _Why would she want to think about me like that?_ Who would want to hear Taylor talk about having romantic-to-steamy daydreams featuring them? _"Oh hey, just wanted to let you know, I think about us having sex sometimes," yeah, Tay, **that** will certainly go over well._ Taylor screwed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose, in an effort to quell an oncoming headache. _God, I'm being a creep and she probably has a boyfriend at home--_

“Hey. You doing okay?”

Estela approached, water bottle in hand. Whatever annoyance that previously painted her face was replaced with a cautious concern. To Estela, there was something unsettlingly unknown about the way she was being regarded. It wasn’t threatening -- no, usually, threats required intent to cause harm, and that intent just couldn’t be found in Taylor no matter how hard Estela studied her. Maybe she just needed some water and some… encouragement… Emotional support?

That was a thing, right?

Awkwardly, Estela extended a hand upwards to pat Taylor’s shoulder. At seeing Taylor freeze at the contact, Estela quickly reassured her, “It’s okay. You’re doing great,” fairly unconvincingly.

It wasn’t that Estela was unimpressed in Taylor’s efforts during this impromptu private lesson - quite the opposite, actually! Taylor had exceeded her expectations, learning surprisingly fast for a total greenhorn. The problem was giving emotional support; it just wasn't something that came easily to Estela.

Seeing the ever-present vacant, vaguely-upset look on Taylor’s face, Estela frowned deeply. She didn’t want Taylor to feel bad or uncomfortable with her. Maybe Taylor was apprehensive about another surprise attack?

Estela mentally kicked herself. That was how her uncle taught her to fight -- surprise attacks, distractions, fighting dirty… it all helped hone Estela’s focus to become laser-sharp. However, her uncle’s teaching-style wasn’t meant to be compatible to anyone except Estela, and she found herself reverting back to that comfort zone when she realized she didn’t know the most effective way to teach Taylor.

In hindsight, that surprise attack didn’t feel right. Estela grimaced, feeling guilt spread through her. It was only supposed to be a one-time thing, intended to get Taylor focused at the beginning…

_...But I suppose I’m good enough at driving others away for them to expect the worst of me. Can I blame them?_

The tension was nearly palpable; thick enough for Estela’s spear to struggle cutting through. _Though, maybe Estela’s abs were cut enough to--_

Taylor snapped, again, out of her daydreaming -- why wasn’t she able to stop this from happening? Why was she reduced to a puddle around Estela? Taylor felt like a creep. Estela deserved so much more than to be gawked at. _I need to stay grounded in reality… she’s here, in front of me, and I need to give her my full attention_, Taylor thought to herself.

Estela’s brows knitted in confusion and concern. She drew her hand up to feel Taylor’s cheek and forehead. “You seem hot,” she noted, offering the water bottle. “Here, sit, drink. No use training if you’re dehydrated.”

As Estela sat on the mat, legs crossed, Taylor became hyper-aware of being under Estela’s gaze. She quickly sat down across from Estela and gulped down half of the water bottle, not quite being able to quench the dryness in her throat.

Estela had propped her elbow on her leg and her chin in her hand. She leaned forward, studying Taylor, mind running through possible reasonings for her strange behavior. Taylor felt herself start to flush at the intensity of Estela’s gaze; though she was back to reality for now, she still couldn’t find the right words to speak.

Estela had been intently searching Taylor’s face, posture, anything, for answers. After a minute or so of awkward silence, intense stares, and water guzzling, Estela leaned back a bit and huffed. “I don’t get it,” she finally said.

Taylor wanted desperately to explain, to get them both on the same page, but wasn’t yet able to find the courage. She started feeling intense pressure from being under scrutiny, akin to performing a recital and forgetting the material once standing in front of the audience. Estela gave her stage fright. _Somehow, I doubt picturing her in her underwear is going to help me focus..._

Estela continued, “I told you I would help you. So, why are you _still_ so nervous?” Frustration tinged her voice, but she couldn’t help it. After a pause, her voice lowered, tone shifting to firm sincerity, “I’m not going to attack you. You’re in no danger with me - you’re safe. I want you to know that.”

Today might be the most Taylor had ever heard Estela talk, and wow, was her voice beautiful. Can Estela just talk forever? _I wonder if she has a good singing voice, I bet she does--_

“Taylor.” Estela’s voice was firm, expression quickly changing from stern to almost… sad. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Looking down, Taylor nervously gulped. “I don’t,” she started, speaking softly amidst a dry throat. “I don’t think… you _can_ help me.” Taylor looked into concerned, baffled, beautiful brown eyes.

“Look,” Estela held up a hand. “I know you’re going through shit. I can’t do much about that.” After a frustrated sigh and looking away, focused on nothing in particular, Estela returned Taylor’s gaze. Her eyes were a kaleidoscope of emotions: concerned, frustrated, intent, pleading… “So tell me what I _can_ do.”

Taylor’s eyes were suddenly as wide as saucers. Her heart sped up as she thought of the implications. It dawned on her that if her daydreams...memories, whatever… were anything to go by, what she wanted from Estela was obvious. And Taylor _wanted_ to say it -- she was an open book and hated hiding her feelings from others; something she prided herself on -- but keeping her mouth shut seemed like the smartest option.

...But, keeping Estela in the dark wasn’t fair. Didn’t she at least deserve to know the truth, wouldn’t it benefit both of them to be honest? One shaky, heavy sigh later, Taylor knew she had to find the courage and bite the bullet, even if it resulted in rejection.

“I… Estela.” The sudden firmness in Taylor’s voice sounded promising, to both of them.

Estela focused on her, relieved. Finally. She hated being in the dark, and further hated feeling helpless. She didn’t say anything, nodding slowly to encourage her. Taylor looked worked-up, so maybe sparring to let off steam was the best option for her--

“Kiss me.”

It was a bit shaky and barely above a whisper, but she did it. Taylor said it. Now it was Estela’s turn to gape; she swallowed hard, suddenly gripped by cold fear. _What did Taylor say? I must have misheard._

“I--” Estela’s voice cracked.

“Estela,” the insistence in Taylor’s voice took them both by surprise. “I need…” After a moment of searching Estela’s dumbstruck face, Taylor sighed, hard. It was clear she said it too quiet. Dammit!

No, maybe this was good, maybe this could be a second chance to reword it and say it right. Estela watched Taylor’s lips move silently, in a clear attempt to carefully formulate whatever it was she needed to say.

There was a tense moment between them as neither of them spoke.

Taylor’s voice dropped, dripping with yearning, “I know I’ve been acting… strange,” Taylor absent-mindedly ran her fingers through her dark hair. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t exactly know why at first, either.” Her voice strengthened as she started to gather confidence. “But now…” She paused, flitting her gaze from Estela’s now-shocked eyes to her lips.

“...I think I know what I want.”

Estela’s head was reeling. Was her heart pumping so loud that Taylor could hear it? This was just a joke, just a way to take advantage of her while her guard was down… Taylor didn’t mean what she said. Why would she? It didn’t make sense.

But, Taylor’s gaze was too serious to be joking, and Estela looked away, flushing a bright pink.

“Wait,” Estela mouthed to herself. Taylor caught it, anxious for Estela’s response as she looked back.

“Is-- is _this_ what your weird staring was about?” Estela wanted to joke -- for it to be a joke -- but the intent look on Taylor’s face told her what she needed to know. “I--! Um…” She started to stammer. Taylor was looking at _her?_ Like _that?!_

Taylor watched as Estela finally started connecting the dots. Watching Estela get increasingly flustered as she further realized the truth made butterflies appear in Taylor’s gut. She couldn’t help but smile at the hotter shade of red Estela got. _She’s so cute when she’s flustered..._

“I can’t seem to shake you from my thoughts,” Taylor laughed, piteously. “Ever since the plane. I know that’s probably _exactly_ what you don’t want to hear right now, but I’d rather be honest with you than hide this.” Taylor wrung her hands together nervously; heart beating rapidly. Despite how anxious she felt, she still smiled; finally, she knew how to voice a little of what she was feeling. So much for controlled breathing. Dammit, Estela.

“Y-you want… to kiss _me_?” Estela’s voice cracked again. She looked incredulously at Taylor. Why? Why?! She had never allowed herself to consider to what a kiss from Taylor would be like -- she tried her hardest to shove any thoughts like that out of her brain. She hurt everyone she became close to… No one knew what they were getting into with Estela, and that alone was enough to drive them away. They were all idiots, anyway… _but Taylor is no idiot._

“You mean it, don’t you? You want this?” Estela’s voice was soft, tinged with sadness. But, Taylor heard the longing. The hope. Estela momentarily closed her eyes and whispered, brows knitted in confusion, and dared to ask:

“You want… _me_?”

A deafening silence.

Estela wanted -- no, needed -- an answer, some sort of confirmation that Taylor wanted her... that it was even possible for someone to want her. It was a validation that she spent her whole life convincing herself she didn’t need, and it was the same validation she currently yearned for.

Taylor knew it wouldn’t be enough to simply answer; words wouldn’t be able to do her feelings justice. She knew that her intent would shine through in her actions, and so she smiled and leaned forward on her knees, reaching about halfway to Estela but seemingly stopped by an invisible bubble. She hoped the message was simple, but obvious: she wanted Estela to close to gap.

Under Taylor’s warm, but intense gaze, Estela felt unusually vulnerable. She didn’t want to reciprocate Taylor’s gaze; she didn’t want to admit to herself that she… wanted this, too.

Just for a second, her eyes flitted back to Taylor.

Wait.

Was Taylor… waiting? She had leaned forward, as if to make a move, but refused to budge. She was waiting, wasn't she?

This was her answer, wasn’t it? Estela’s heart skipped a beat.

So many things about Taylor shocked Estela. For one, Taylor wasn’t scared of her, like everyone else seemed to be. On top of that, _for whatever reason_, Taylor really cared. She truly, _actually_ cared, didn’t she? This wasn’t some ploy against Estela to embarrass or hurt her… No, Taylor seemed genuine; Taylor seemed to want Estela to enjoy this, too, to have a say in what happened.

Estela wasn't used to that. She was used to having to carve out her own autonomy from manipulative, abusive figures in her life that didn't care much for her well-being.

But here, she wasn't being forced or shamed into anything; her agency was being respected… by Taylor, a girl she had known for a few days. Estela couldn’t understand it; it was a simple gesture of trust, but it was offered to her by someone she barely knew.

She was surprised to admit it to herself, but even though it had only been a few days, she... trusted Taylor. Truly, _actually_ trusted Taylor.

...And maybe cared a bit about her, too.

Estela’s throat was drier than she remembered it being. “Taylor…”

“Yeah?”

Estela noticed Taylor’s encouraging smile. There was _something_ about that expression... she couldn’t place what exactly was twinkling in Taylor’s eyes, but it wasn’t how people normally looked at her... it wasn’t filled with fear, or hatred. No, it was something truly foreign to Estela, but she was certain it was something wonderful.

“...Come here,” Estela whispered, and started to close the gap.

Estela almost dared to close her eyes, but if she did, she’d have missed the light that shone on Taylor’s face -- glee, a look of relief, a… look of admiration? And… something else… -- and it was a look that filled Estela with an intense fullness; a kind of happiness that was unknown to her.

As Taylor slowly scooted closer and leaned in, Estela reached out to cup her face. Taken by the tenderness of the touch, Taylor gasped. It took a moment of a few intense, shallow breaths for Estela to finally, completely, close the gap.

As soft lips tentatively overtook her own, Taylor found herself transported into yet another “daydream:”  
  


* * *

  
_Estela, body slick with sweat and flushed with life, stood near the foot of their bed. She faced the window, gazing at the moon outside. There was a scar on her lower back, just barely visible. More noticeable, however, were the shoulders rising and falling as Estela tried to catch her breath._

_As Taylor felt herself shamelessly admiring that lithe, fit form, Estela turned around and grinned, right before shutting off the lights. The silhouette outlined by moonlight melted into Taylor’s own._

_“Ready for round two?”_  
  


* * *

  
Taylor broke the kiss to gasp for air, shocked by the combination of how real that daydream felt mixed with how _right_ Estela’s lips felt against her own.

Almost frantically, she searched Estela’s face for… something. Something that said ‘I didn’t completely hate kissing you, _cabron_.’ Estela’s eyes were still closed and she seemed frozen in place; her lips were still parted, as if she were locked in a daydream of her own.

Feeling nothing short of relief, Taylor almost laughed. Euphoria bubbled up inside her gut and she couldn’t help but grin. Estela _definitely_ didn’t hate that. A feeling of pride started to emerge -- who else could render Estela this flustered? She guessed: not many. But _she_ did, and that was an incredible feeling. Who wouldn’t want to make this beautiful woman swoon? _Guess she doesn't have a boyfriend after all..._

Estela’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and Taylor saw the soft, almost peaceful expression in them that complemented the fact that she was positively _glowing_. Honestly, everyone else was missing out, because the view Taylor had was so special, she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Taylor spoke what was on her mind without any semblance of a filter, “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

It was a voice filled with something deeper than admiration. The "daydream" replayed itself in Taylor's mind, and it filled her with an intense feeling of devotion… one that shouldn't be possible for a three-day-long acquaintance-not-quite-friendship.

Estela blushed deeply, Taylor’s voice snapping her out of her own personal bliss. She was a bit scared to look Taylor in the eye, scared to see the fear or disgust she was dreading, yet expecting. She fought against that fear to return Taylor’s gaze, and what she saw floored her.

...Affection.

That was the only thing looking back at her. Her nerves threatening to bubble over, Estela quickly looked away, face burning hotter. Did that just happen? Did she just kiss Taylor? Did Taylor actually seem to enjoy it?

_...Did Taylor just call me beautiful?_

She heard a giggle and felt Taylor’s fingers tuck away a stray, damp hair behind her ear. Estela shivered at the touch -- it was fleeting, to her dismay.

“Oh wow, your ears are really red!” Taylor teased, affectionately. “Looks like it’s not just your face, huh?”

Indignant, Estela hissed, “_Paisa!_” and retorted, “You’re one to talk!” She placed the back of her hand against one of Taylor’s own beet-red cheeks.

“See?” Estela tried to regain an upper-hand, but she was thrown off when she felt Taylor lean into her hand. She faltered as Taylor’s lips parted again. “See, it’s… not… just… me,” Estela finished, lamely, then swallowed hard at the idea of reclaiming those lips. _No, no… She wouldn’t want me to kiss her again, what am I thinking? That was my first kiss! There’s no way that wasn’t horrible for her. There’s no way she actually enjoyed--_

She was promptly shaken from her thoughts when she felt Taylor take her hand and started placing slow, deliberate kisses along the back of it.

“I… _um_,” Estela faltered, completely at a loss. How was this happening? How was this happening to _her_?

She stared incredulously at Taylor, who was staring right back as she continued her kisses. She seemed to be carefully studying Estela’s changes in expression, gauging if what she was doing was still okay. Taylor didn’t want to overwhelm Estela, but did want to get the point across that what happened was not a fluke. She kissed each of her knuckles before turning the hand over to kiss her palm. This was as good of an affectionate compromise as any, she figured.

For Estela, the reality of the situation was starting to sink in. This was exactly why she made such an effort to distance herself from others -- so something like this wouldn’t happen, so she could protect herself. So nobody else had to get hurt.

Becoming overwhelmed by the care of the physical affection she was receiving, Estela just stared. Despite her best efforts to push others away -- being cold, lashing out, hiding any emotional vulnerability -- Taylor was here, showing her that she _wanted_ to be here. It was as if Taylor stood up against Estela’s cold exterior and threatened to knock down the walls she had spent half of her life building.

“I... Can I kiss you again?” came Taylor’s throaty request, her own eyes betraying the longing she felt.

Estela gaped, being thoroughly snapped out of her thoughts. Taylor… wanted another kiss?

...Taylor wanted another kiss.

God! What was it about Taylor that was so maddening? So… intoxicating? Something about this was _so familiar_, yet Estela couldn’t put her finger on it. As far as she was aware, this experience was entirely unique, so why did it feel so _strangely familiar_?

Estela’s feelings remained conflicted. Despite expecting her first kiss to be completely dripping in rejection, awkwardness, and terribleness, she found that reality showed her a different option: bliss. In fact, when they kissed, she felt as if the world fell away around her, and found that she never wanted the kiss to end.

And now Taylor wants another? _I do, too, but..._

The change in expression from stunned to worried on Estela’s face gave Taylor pause. Not one speck of Taylor wanted to rush into anything Estela wouldn’t be comfortable with. Judging from the hesitance Estela had been showing as soon as fighting was off the table, Taylor knew they had ventured into unfamiliar territory.

Still holding her teacher’s hand, Taylor stopped her barrage of affection. With concerned, intense eyes, she said with utmost sincerity, “I don’t want to take this anywhere you aren’t ready for it to go, okay?”

Estela’s eyebrows raised. Taylor locked eyes with her, to show how serious she was.

“I mean it. There’s… something about you…” Taylor trailed off, smiling. “...Something wonderful. I feel things with you that I haven’t with anyone else...”

Taylor noted the shocked look on Estela’s face and nodded, confirming what she said was true. She felt a lot of things, and didn’t quite know how to say them all, so she figured it would be best to just tell Estela what she knew instead of trying to improvise a romantic soliloquy.

Though, part of her wanted to shower Estela in affection, she knew she had to put a point on what she was trying to say.

“If you want, I can stop here. _We_ can stop here. Is that okay?” Taylor brushed her thumb over Estela’s knuckles, in an effort to soothe her.

Eyes softening, Estela whispered, “Thank you.” She only realized how tense her body was when she released the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Taylor saw the relief - in Estela’s eyes and in her posture. If those daydreams… or, “memories,” or whatever they were… were an accurate indication of what could be, Taylor wanted to make sure she had every chance of fulfilling that future. Something about Estela was just… too enticing… _too familiar..._ to want to pass up for anyone else.

She felt her hand being gently squeezed, and smiled. Estela had her own soft smile, and through the warmth of that connection alone, the rest of the world didn’t seem to matter as much.  
  


* * *

Though both women were beyond flustered for the duration of their practice time, Estela made a valiant effort to push through and review what she’d taught Taylor. Despite both of their best efforts to concentrate, it was safe to say that the continual reminders of how they ended up in their... _compromised_ positions... ended up being a bit too distracting, and it was agreed that they should call it for the day.

It was past-afternoon by the time they both left the gym area, though they didn’t leave together. It was unspoken, but they both knew that showering in the same locker room would’ve been too much for either of them, and so they parted ways when they left the workout room.

As Taylor made her way back up to her rainforest suite to take a _very_ cold shower, she couldn’t stop grinning. Though she couldn’t help but feel disappointed in how short those moments were compared to how long she wished they were, Taylor still knew she would look back on that time fondly. For the first time, she felt she had really connected to Estela, and that was something she knew wasn’t only a rare accomplishment, but something to be celebrated. The sheer fact that Estela was even willing to open up as much as she did was enough to send Taylor over the moon.

With all of her heart, she hoped Estela wouldn’t mind teaching a second lesson at some point in the _very_ near future.


	2. Mind Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taylor and Estela find an uptick in the frequency of both the presence of danger and their troubling daydreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for alcohol and marijuana use.

It was a rowdy night; Taylor, Jake, and Sean were being lauded as heroes for not only surviving, but attacking and scaring off an enormous sea monster. There was an impromptu “Heroes’ Party” by the pool for them, and Taylor found herself in a momentary lull as her friends transitioned into a topic she couldn’t contribute to. She found herself scanning the scene for a certain familiar face -- something she found herself doing more and more often -- and couldn’t help but feel an ache of disappointment when she couldn’t find her.

It had been four days since Taylor’s accidental workout with Estela.

...It had been four days since they kissed.

Unfortunately, whenever Taylor did her best to show up each morning to workout, Estela was nowhere to be seen. They never made any agreements on meeting up on a scheduled basis; it was probably assumed they would naturally run into each other again at some point.

But, they hadn’t.

The times when Taylor saw Estela were mostly when the group was together, or Taylor made an effort to scope out her fighting instructor.

Taylor shivered. The dream she had where Estela had called out to her had led to a gnawing dread that something bad had happened to her. Far too spooked by the idea, Taylor threw aside any anxieties about where she stood with Estela and went to find her.

Which led to fighting a giant crab. Because of course it did.

...It also led to the two sleeping together, almost begrudgingly. Taylor found herself as the ‘big spoon’ to the woman she had kissed only a day or two before; her face burned for a few, agonizing hours before sleep finally overtook her. They hadn’t talked about where they stood, they hadn’t talked about the kiss, they hadn’t acted as if anything actually happened between them…

...Which was, somehow, worse.

Rejection would be hard, but better than wandering around in a confusing void, not knowing where she stood with someone that…

...well…

...someone who may actually have a deeper relationship to her than either of them knew.  
  


* * *

_“You can trust Taylor. I know I do,” came a confession with a bit more edge to it than she had expected to hear. She turned to look at Estela, who looked a bit flushed -- from embarrassment, or…? -- but stalwart in what she had said. She looked at Taylor and offered a small but genuine smile, conviction burning in her eyes. _

* * *

  
Taylor made sure to make a mental note of what that one felt like; it seemed similar to the others she’d had in how it was able to consume all senses until it was over. Unfortunately, it didn’t shed light on any questions she had._ I don’t even know where that one was... _ Usually, at least Taylor could pinpoint the setting as at least ‘_somewhere_ on La Huerta’ but that one was unfamiliar - some sort of dinner party? It had to be on the island somewhere, right?

Wincing at the brightness of the lights, Taylor grumbled. She had been increasingly sensitive to light and sound; she couldn’t place why, but she just felt… off.

She blindly grabbed her drink -- Raj was quite the mixologist, she found out -- and took a sip. Somehow, she knew that those damn daydreams had something to do with it. They hadn’t stopped appearing, or even slowed down; in fact, they had only been increasing in frequency. It was starting to freak Taylor out. She had no idea what could possibly trigger any of them -- being around Estela, at least, it made sense: being in close proximity to the person she was having the daydreams about would be a logical trigger.

But what about the past few days, when she had hardly seen Estela in person, yet was almost constantly seeing her in “daydream” form?

\--**thok**

Startled, Taylor looked around for what hit her when she saw a beach ball land nearby, rolling away upon hitting the pavement. She heard snickers and turned back to the pool.

“Got rocks for brains or somethin’?! WHU-” Craig called out, quickly getting dunked by Sean.

“Ignore him! Come join us, Taylor!” Sean yelled, struggling against Craig who was trying to flip him underwater.

It took another second for Taylor to process what had just happened. Though she was busy consumed by her thoughts, she was still sitting alone in a party meant to celebrate her. It’s likely she looked like she needed some cheering up. _Which might not be a bad idea... maybe I need a distraction._

Taylor was about to stand up when she saw Quinn approach her, with Michelle on her arm.

“Taa~_aaay_!” Quinn drawled, an enormous grin plastered on her face as she moved to embrace Taylor in a tight bear hug.

“I’m walking her to bed,” Michelle declared, attempting to look stern, but losing her edge when her eyes fell on Quinn.

“O-oh!” Taylor started, caught off-guard. It was no secret Quinn was open about being affectionate, but something about this wasn’t normal. “Uh, did you guys have… fun?” Taylor returned the embrace, which seemed to last for a bit too long; she started to softly pat Quinn on the back as a cue. “...Quinn?”

Michelle moved to peel Quinn off of Taylor, then reattached her to her arm. “Sorry, Taylor,” Michelle sighed. “Raj made edibles. Special recipe, he said--”

“I can’t believe we’ve been standing here for ten thousand years!” Quinn gaped, pure awe painted on her face, eyes darting around rapidly. Michelle moved her hand to manually close Quinn’s mouth.

“Yes, Quinn, we sure have,” she rolled her eyes, annoyance clear in her voice. And on her face. And in her body language.

_Michelle sure can have patience when she wants to. _Taylor noticed how dilated Quinn’s pupils were. She blinked and asked, “Did… did Quinn _know_…?”

“Oh, believe me, _she knew_, all right,” Michelle rolled her eyes again, making an exaggerated full-body sigh. She pitched her voice up to impersonate the incredibly-gone redhead on her arm.

“I just _never_ get to do this, I bet it would be _really fun_! And what better time than a celebration, right? Maybe it could even help w--!” Michelle’s eyes widened and she dropped the act, looking at Quinn with what looked like panic in her eyes.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “Help with… what?” She looked between the two, trying to glean meaning from either of them.

Michelle stayed silent, making every attempt not to look at Taylor, instead becoming transfixed on the beach ball volleying back and forth over the pool-net.

Quinn just giggled, nudging Michelle a little too roughly, then threw her arms around her. “Oh, Meech! You _do_ care!” Taylor swore she saw Michelle’s face tint red.

“Quinn… the hell? Of course I care!” Michelle tried to sound indignant in an attempt to play off the blush burning on her face. She coughed a bit to snap Quinn out of her hug, and settled for prying her off when it didn’t work.

Another giggle escaped Quinn. “You always try to pretend to be such a standoffish bitch, but everyone can see through it. We all know you’re a total softie inside!”

Taylor spit out her drink and started coughing when her throat started to burn. Michelle visibly bristled, unsure if Quinn was cutting her with barbs or was just being overly tactless. She continued to short-circuit as Quinn reached up to start playing with her hair.

When Taylor finally cleared her airways, she started to laugh uncontrollably; Michelle glared daggers to get Taylor to shut up, but it only made Taylor laugh harder. Quinn beamed up at Michelle and seemed content to keep rambling.

“You’re actually _so_ nice! And sweet! And warm! And--”

“ALRIGHT, GOOD NIGHT, TAYLOR. GOOD TO… SEE YOU NOT GET EATEN,” Michelle practically had steam coming out of her ears as she hastily dragged Quinn back to the hotel. Taylor heard Quinn trailing off and wondered if Quinn was remotely aware of what she had said. Or if she’d remember what she said in the morning.

Raj, Zahra, and Diego strolled up next. _Huh. Now that’s a combo._ All three of them were giggling; surprisingly, Zahra laughing the hardest between them.

“Did you--did you _see_ Quinn? Did you see Michelle’s _face_? Oh my _god_, we’ve gotta get her to join our parties more often!” Zahra all but blurted out. Raj slapped her on the back, giving her a hearty chuckle.

“That’s the magic of my secret recipe! It’s all about letting those _good vibes_ flow,” Raj said, grinning, clearly pleased with himself.

Taylor held up her hands. “Listen, Raj, real quick: Quinn… _did_ know what she was eating, right?” Zahra bust out laughing, again.

“Wha--! Taylor, come on!” The look on Raj’s face was a mix of offended and truly hurt. “Do you really think I’d do something like that? Everyone always straps in _willingly_ to time travel; I’d never make them!”

As if on cue, all four glanced over in the direction of Craig, currently mid-noogie.

“I keep a good eye on everyone as their budtender; no pranks allowed, especially not when those pranks ruin the sanctity of a good, safe time,” Raj never stopped looking hurt, but the passion behind his statement made it hard to doubt him. At this, Taylor was satisfied and sat back. She couldn’t stand the thought of someone willingly sending Quinn on any sort of trip without her knowing.

The relief she felt must have been obvious to the others, as they also visibly relaxed, then moved to pull up their own chairs. Well, except for Diego, who seemed content to sit on the ground. He was fidgeting with something in his hands.

“Y’know, I am glad you brought it up, though, Taylor. That shows me you really care about everyone here, and I have to respect that,” the hurt look Raj was sporting was replaced with his signature laid-back grin.

“Yeah, Taylor’s so much of a ‘good person’,” Zahra started, using scare quotes, “that she wasted no time jumping to the conclusion that Craig drugged Quinn.” She broke down in a fit of giggles again. Both Taylor and Raj shot her a glare.

“What?” she asked, wiping a tear from her eye. “He’d never have the balls to do something like that. Trust me, I know.”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed, studying Zahra. “That’s… good, I’m glad to be wrong. I’d rather trust everyone here…” she trailed off as a daydream hit her between the eyes once more:  
  


* * *

_“Where are we going?!” Taylor yelled. Her throat burned. Her lungs burned. Everything burned. It felt like they had been running for hours._

_Estela didn’t answer, ducking and weaving around the jungle. She kept looking around and behind them as they ran, and it seemed to take up all of her concentration. _

_“Come on!” she growled. Taylor was unsure if it was directed towards her or not. _

_They ran until they reached a clearing, then Estela swiveled around and dropped into a fighting stance. Taylor slowed to a stop, confused. _

_“What are you **doing**?! We need to get out of here!”_

_Estela said nothing, tense, as if she were a coiled-up spring ready to pounce. Taylor frantically looked back between their destination and where they just ran from; surely whatever was following them was right on their heels! They had to **move**!_

_“Estela!” Taylor cried, becoming increasingly desperate. “We need to--”_

_“Go,” Estela said, voice dangerously low. _

_Taylor stared, incredulous. “No. I’m not leaving you. I’m not!” _

_“Taylor, **go**.” It almost sounded like a warning. Taylor flinched, mind racing with options of how to convince Estela to come with her._

_But the rustling of leaves and branches signified it was too late. _

_...And so did the spear that was now puncturing Estela’s stomach. **Her** spear. Cold panic shot through Taylor; she forgot to pick it up. _

_No, no, no, NO!_

_“**ESTELA**\--!”_

* * *

  
Taylor found herself panting. She looked around, wild-eyed, at her friends that were silently staring at her. Some of them started to make their way over to check on her.

“She’s… not here, friendo. Haven’t seen her tonight.” Raj broke the silence, gently. He frowned. If Taylor was yelling Estela’s name, she must be important to her, somehow. He hadn’t seen the two of them really interact much, but maybe something deeper was going on behind the scenes?

Zahra pantomimed squinting through binoculars into the wilderness, as if trying to search for Estela. “Hmm, nope, no glowing eyes. Don’t see the little stalker anywhere,” she teased, cruelly. Diego started to laugh nervously, continuing to turn over the object in his hands.

Sean, Craig, and Jake walked up, vague concern in their eyes. Jake tried to make an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Princess, shouldn’t you keep those kinna screams for the bedroom?” Jake promptly got swatted by Sean, glared at by Raj, and high-fived by Craig. Zahra had to turn around to laugh.

“What’s going on?” Sean asked, kneeling in front of Taylor.

As Taylor got her bearings, she studied each of the five faces in front of her, and couldn’t help trying to search for a sixth. “Where--?” She asked, breathless. “Estela. Is she--?”

She felt a hand on her shoulder. “She’s fine; she’s probably resting,” Raj comforted. He gave her a second to digest the information before asking in return, “Are _you_ okay?”

Taylor started to answer, and the crowd hovering close-by remained enrapt. No one noticed the figure that had been casually walking out the jungle to The Celestial, nor when the figure stopped in their tracks and darted off to the side of the building where they wouldn’t be seen. Out of sight, Estela leaned against the concrete wall to catch her breath. She raised a hand to remove her hood only to find that she was trembling.

_What the **fuck** was that?_ She had left to take a long walk to clear her head -- these damned daydreams, or whatever they were, had been inundating her thoughts for the past few days, and they were driving her stress levels up the wall.

...And then she heard Taylor call her name. No, not call, _scream_.

In _terror_.

It was one of the worst sounds she’d ever heard; she’d pay the money she didn’t have if it ensured she’d never hear Taylor scream like that again.

“What is happening…?” She muttered, letting out an anguished groan as she sunk to the ground.

She couldn’t walk out and face them. She couldn’t face Taylor. After all, it was a party _for_ Taylor! _...And Jake and Sean, I guess._ She couldn’t show up just to leave, she didn’t want to worry Taylor or give off the impression that she didn’t care.

What would she say, anyway? ‘Congrats on not getting eaten, I have to go back to ignoring you and failing miserably, good night!’ It had been four days since they kissed, and it wasn’t an accident that they hadn’t run into each other since. There had been some close calls, but the less Taylor knew about those, the better.

_Is hiding really the best thing to do?_ She challenged herself, with a faint spark of hope it would will herself to stand up, head over, and say something.

...But after hearing that scream, she wasn’t so sure she could.

After all, that scream triggered a horrific “daydream.” It went by too quick to pick up enough details, but she knew that they were at a cliff of some sort, and Taylor had slipped. Just as Estela lunged forward to grab her, Taylor screamed her name.

Estela shivered, willing the cold pit in her stomach to go away. _It’s fine. She’s safe. She’s alive._

She buried her head in her hands, repeating those thoughts as a self-soothing mantra.

“What am I going to do?”  
  


* * *

  
“Here, take this.”

Taylor looked up, wincing when she accidentally looked into an overhead light, and saw a fuzzy silhouette of a water bottle thrust in front of her. She wasn’t entirely sure what had been happening; her mind was supremely foggy and her senses were dulled far more than a small amount of alcohol could reasonably be held accountable.

Taylor heard a jumble of voices and struggled to make any of them out. She was certain there was a stern ‘Don’t crowd her!’ yelled by… somebody. The commotion seemed to quiet down some.

“It’s been a long day,” Taylor heard someone say. They sounded concerned.

“You’re telling’ _me_, Cap’,” said another. That one had to be… Jake?

She felt herself groan at how sick she felt. Nausea mixed with vertigo bubbled up in a way that she knew was strange for the circumstances.

“Maybe one of us should make sure she gets to bed safely?” There was a snort.

“I hereby bestow babysittin’ duties onto you, Petey,” Jake said, derisively. There was a moment of silence before Taylor felt a hand on her shoulder. She heard the same voice again, this time in much closer proximity.

“Get some sleep, Princess. You deserve that much.” She felt a few pats before she was sure Jake left.

“Wuh--?” Taylor croaked out, finding a fifth of her voice. She once again heard a flood of voices, and it was impossible to pinpoint them.

“Here, make sure she drinks water--” “Yeah, let’s give ‘er some space, eh?” “Way to snooze at your own party…” “Craig!” “What?”

She wasn’t sure how much time passed, but the voices seemed to thin out until it was almost silent. The wave of sickness that pulsed within her started to ebb, and reality slowly funneled its way back into her senses.

“Where--?” Taylor’s voice cracked, and the water bottle was shoved into her hands.

“Drink this. We don’t know where Estela is.” Silence. “...B-but I’m sure she’s… fine?”

Taylor finally found herself able to open her eyes without being accompanied by a splitting headache. Diego was sitting in front of her, alone.

“What… happened?” Taylor asked, taking several small sips of water. She watched Diego as he silently, anxiously gestured. It was incoherent.

Taylor stared. “Okay, with words this time, D.”

Looking embarrassed, Diego must have made a mental note to stuff his hands in his pockets to stop from gesticulating. His face scrunched up as he thought of an answer to her question.

“I… actually don’t know? It was weird, you just got faint out of nowhere,” Diego shrugged, toying with something in his pocket.

“Wait-- what do you have?” Taylor asked. Diego lit up as he reached in his pocket and held out... a padlock?

“I found it just before the party,” Diego offered as Taylor took it and turned it around in her hands.

“Is this what you were playing with all night?”

“I needed _something_ to fiddle with…”

Taylor looked at him, then back at the padlock. “Is it okay if I hold onto this?” Diego quirked an eyebrow, looking for a second as if he was about to protest, but decided against it.

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged as Taylor pocketed the padlock. “Anyway…” He trailed off, attempting to change the subject to any of the things he was most curious about. Taylor subconsciously leaned forward, feeling ready to have a conversation about… anything, at this point.

“...So, how many teeth did that monster have? You got a good look, right?” Taylor deflated before falling into a laughing fit.

“Diego!”  
  


* * *

  
The door to her room nearly slammed shut as Estela fell back against it, trying to calm down. She wasn’t physically exhausted, but her adrenaline was spiked. Before the party was over, she had managed to slink into The Celestial unnoticed… but not before stealing a glance at Taylor. The visual of how she concerned she looked ran through her head, mixed with the strange daydreams she had been having, and it felt _unnatural_.

...Like there was something tethering her to Taylor. It almost felt _wrong_ to slip past without saying anything, to ignore Taylor. To ignore her feelings for Taylor. But, well, she knew it was necessary - she couldn’t afford to dwell on those feelings, unless she was okay with subsequently putting both herself and Taylor in danger.

And that wasn’t going to happen.

Estela dragged herself to her bed and flopped gracelessly on it, face-first. Too much had happened and she had a feeling that one night’s sleep wasn’t going to fix the exhaustion that was starting to compound in on itself.

God, she really thought Taylor was a goner. When that sea-thing arose out of nowhere, she felt her heart jump into her throat and… truthfully, she still hadn’t recovered from the sight.

“That idiot,” she mumbled into the blanket. “She could have died. Died!”

_How can I keep her safe when she damn near sprints to her death? _

She pushed herself up to crawl under the covers, hoping movement would quell those restless thoughts.

It didn’t.

“She could have died…”

It was quiet, nearly a whisper. Estela’s vision seemed to cloud over as stress got the best of her. This week had truly been hell. How was she supposed to get to sleep?

Estela took one of the pillows and held it over her head. Hiding from the truth via pillow wasn’t going to accomplish anything, but the small comfort it provided was perhaps the only thing she could derive hope from.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She wasn’t supposed to get attached to anybody. That just wasn’t how she worked. Estela let out an aggravated, mumbled groan.

So why _now_ when she was _so_ close to her goal?  
  


* * *

  
Not too far away, Taylor tossed and turned in her own bed. She had awoken a few times already; nightmares plagued her, especially ones about sea monsters. One even featured the sea monster destroying half of her friends… and Estela.

_Just ignore it, just ignore it. They’re just dreams. Everyone is safe._

Taylor’s eyes were heavy, but she was reluctant to close them again. Instead, she stared out of her window at the night sky. She idly wondered if Estela was doing okay as she drifted off - only then was she able to calm down enough for sleep to meet her halfway.  
  


* * *

  
The next morning, Estela found herself in The Celestial’s work-out room once again, beating the daylight out of a suspended punching bag. She took to exercise and martial arts whenever she needed to clear her head and let off steam, and the mixture of stress and paranoia was starting to mount to unbearable heights. The lack of sleep didn’t help, either - Estela wasn’t close enough with anyone else to verify, but she could guess that sleep was becoming more of a rarity for everyone, these days.

...Not that anyone in the group would admit to these problems, because that would just be admitting everything that happened _was real_ \-- and would ‘harsh everyone’s mellow’. Regardless of what everyone else thought about the situation they were in, she knew she had to keep a cool head if she wanted to complete her mission. After all, she had to be ready for anything, and striking when everyone is preoccupied is something Rourke would do; anything to handicap his enemies, anything to get ahead, no matter who he had to stomp on to get there. It was practically his signature move.

Pretending the punching bag was Rourke’s very-punchable face made it far easier to let everything out.

Punch.

Estela decided to take the peace the morning afforded her and do what she had been ruefully avoiding: attempt to break-down what had been happening in the past four days. _I need to deal with this now, or else I won’t be able to move forward. Or focus for the task ahead._

She sighed. Too much had already happened. At first, the strange events unfolding were blow-by-blow, but manageable. Seeing a giant sea monster emerge and almost kill Sean, Jake, and Taylor? That was drawing a line.

Punch-punch.

Finding out their only lines of transportation off the island were destroyed? With group morale tanking constantly? That was drawing _another_ line.

Punch! Estela felt fury start to dance within her.

Not to speak of the constant dreams about Taylor, what about those damned weird daydreams that kept happening? They were starting to become intrusive -- what if one popped up the next time they got attacked?

_Punch!_

What about hearing of Quinn nearly drowning due to seemingly evil, sentient seaweed?

Roundhouse kick.

Or seeing a _real_ sabertooth tiger, then fleeing before it killed everyone?

Kick-kick, _punch_!

Fighting an evil, giant crab and being distracted enough by Taylor to jeopardize her life?

_Kick, punch!_

Almost losing Taylor to drowning after the fight with the sea monster? After a personal promise not to get attached to anyone?

_Punch!_

After a personal promise not to string anyone along, to save everyone from unnecessary pain?

_Punch-**punch**!_

After already kissing Taylor, with an unspoken promise that more was yet to come?

…

“Ngahh!!” ripped itself from Estela’s throat. She had a sheen of sweat and was nearly frenzied as she twisted her body once more to rain a series of blows on the Rourke-substitute-punching-bag.

“I don’t--”

_Punch!_

“--need--”

_Punch-**punch**!_

“--anyone…”

_Roundhouse kick!_

Pause, ragged breathing. Seething.

“..._ANYONE!_”

** _Kick!--_ **

** _\--THWOOM!_ **

...

If anyone else were around, they would likely have heard Estela’s yelling, or the chaotic flurry of blows on the punching bag attached to the ceiling.

That is, if the punching bag was still attached to the ceiling.

Poor 5’2” Estela, too entranced by her own thoughts, was unprepared for the bag’s worn rope to break and for the bag to collapse upon her. But, well, weirder things have happened, like finding all escape routes destroyed and fending off attacks from beasts that shouldn’t theoretically exist.

...Or exploring Rourke’s underground “Observatory,” and hearing the cries of civilians right before they, seemingly, died from an eruption that might not have happened yet...

…_Or Taylor kissing me_, Estela thought, raising a wrapped hand to her face, groaning. It had been exhausting, keeping up with everything, trying to stay on-guard… but the consequences of doing so were wearing on her, along with everyone else. Breathing room didn’t seem to be a concept this island understood… if it could even understand concepts, being an island.

Estela sharply exhaled, as if to rid herself of all of those thoughts. She made no moves to get up. Strangely, it felt she deserved this; the punching bag’s weight pinning her symbolizing the crushing weight of all terrifying recent happenstances.

_...**Like, Taylor kissing me. **_

Estela felt her anxiety rise and fall relentlessly within her, like waves in a squall summoned by a 15-story sea monster. She let herself lay there, “defeated” under the weight of the punching bag and all it symbolized. Truthfully, she could get up at any moment -- and could have dodged it if 15% of her brain capacity had been working on More Than 3 Hours of Sleep Total For The Past Few Days™… but, sadly, that wasn’t the case.

And, it _certainly_hadn’t been the case...

...since Taylor kissed her.

Estela groaned loudly and covered her face with her hands. “Why?” She mumbled, immensely thankful for being alone in the workout room.

Hadn’t reliving the moment over and over again been enough? Hadn’t being startled awake countless times from a steamy dream about Taylor been enough? Of all things, why was _this_ the one thing her brain had trouble processing? A simple kiss from someone she found attractive and kinda-sorta trusted and _maybe_ cared for?

Why _that_ and not one of the many near-death experiences that peppered the week? Kissing wasn’t life-threatening; it wasn’t anything remotely close to the danger that kept happening to her and her friends.

_No, not ‘friends,’ we’re not friends._

Her thoughts wandered back to particularly vulnerable members of the group, like Quinn. What about her nearly drowning, or how she had gotten unnaturally pulled under by ocean vines?

Estela gritted her teeth at the thought. She knew something was wrong with Quinn, even if she didn’t quite know what. Quinn had been a sweetheart throughout the trip, putting on a strong face for the group, and the thought of losing her -- either to whatever she was internally or externally battling, courtesy of La Huerta -- was unbearable. Estela wasn’t particularly close to Quinn, but couldn’t help but feel fiercely protective of her; she was glad Michelle had taken on the unofficial role of keeping an eye out for the group's resident bubbly optimist.

A shaky breath escaped as she thought back to moments around Quinn. Estela took a moment to scope out the redhead in her memories of the past week. She could practically visualize Quinn’s illness progressing; it was subtle, but just in the short time they had been there, Quinn had gotten slightly more gaunt. Despite the redhead’s best efforts to put on her cheerful ‘oh no, guys, everything is fine! Let’s stop crime and make-out!’ face, some symptoms she had, in whatever was ailing her, were noticeable: tremors would come through before nightfall, there were subtle winces of pain, she would get winded a bit quicker each day...

_She doesn’t deserve that. I don’t know what she has… I can’t help her. _ Estela grimaced, face shriveled in frustration. She wasn’t knowledgeable when it came to anything beyond basic medicine, but it seemed like Quinn knew something was going on and might be in… denial.

_If my body was slowly weakening, and I couldn’t control it…?_ Estela shook her head violently to rid the thought. _I would not be able to stand it. I can hardly stand watching someone else go through it… _ Whatever that “it” may be.  


The next realization hit Estela like a bag of bricks. Her gut sank and she felt enveloped by cold fear.

Quinn might die here.

She might die _soon._

Estela gulped; her throat suddenly impossibly dry. _I thought… I was immune to grief by now._ A shudder ripped through her as her eyes lost focus. Quinn’s blood will be on one person’s hands… Revulsion rose through Estela; revulsion and righteous anger. The purpose she came to the island to fulfill slowly started flooded back to her mind, to the top rung of her ladder of priority. She had almost forgotten her goal due to her focus being on everyone else’s well-being for the past few days. This was a mess.

One thing was for sure, though:

Every possible death, every hazardous, insane thing that happened on this island…

...it was all because of Rourke.

_That bastard. That fucking **bastard**_... He was probably watching, safe from the island’s anomalies, ordering his beasts like the crab and the sabertooth to attack. Estela clenched her jaw as fury bubbled forth. _That fucker likely genetically engineered those two just to sic ‘em on us, while he sits pretty, watching and laughing as we fend for our lives…_

The punching bag found new, finger-sized perforations in its outer texture. _He likely destroyed the pilot’s plane, the boats at the marina… that bastard wants to pick us off, one-by-one…_ The outer texture started to rip entirely from the pressure of Estela’s rage-filled grip.

None of this made sense. None of this was fair. Estela should’ve known better than to fight a psychopath on his own turf; she had to learn that lesson the hard way in San Trobida, when she had helped a war-torn village reclaim some of its land from the dictatorship of a certain General Salazar. Her uncle had warned her of the dangers of fighting on occupied territory, that the enemy knew the land better and may have bribed the civilians to fight against any effort from freedom fighters, but Estela didn’t care. Ultimately, they won, but her carelessness almost got her killed.

That was then. Why wouldn’t it be happening now, too?

A lump started to form in her throat. She really thought she had figured it out, that she had the experience to stop her from making the same mistake twice. _But here I fucking am, careless enough to believe I’d have **any** chance of a fair fight against Rourke on **his island**..._ She slammed her eyes shut in an effort to stop any tears that threatened to fall.

_...And here **I** fucking am, careless enough to believe “it’s okay if this pretty girl gets close to me, there’s no way she could get hurt. I taught her the absolute basics of fighting, after-fucking-all…”_

“_Why_?!” Estela screamed, awkwardly ripping at the bag still covering her. A sob escaped her throat as she moved her hands back up to cover her face, aggressively wiping at the tears that fell. The shame she felt was near-palpable. How could she dare get close to someone when she knew what would happen?

How could she dare get close to someone that deserved better?

The last thing Estela needed was the guilt of leading Taylor on; she tried her best to come to La Huerta without attachments and originally planned on staying at La Huerta without attachments. But now, there was an attachment, and one that had to be disposed of: she had to come clean and tell Taylor the real reason she came to the island… and that she very likely won’t be making it back alive.

Hot tears fell indiscriminately. Taylor deserved to know the truth: that being close will only stand to hurt her when Estela inevitably died fighting Rourke. She deserved to know that, in order to focus enough to get her revenge, Estela couldn’t have any distractions...

...And that it would be best if Taylor forgot about her.

Another shuddering sob escaped Estela, who attempted to even out her breathing. She finally hoisted the punching bag off of her and sat up, muttering, “There’s no way I could tell her the truth…”

“Tell who what, now?”

Estela nearly leapt onto her feet in an instant, cold panic gripping her at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice. _Oh no, is that--?_

Spinning around, Estela noticed Taylor standing in the doorway, bag over her shoulder, warm smile on her face. Having no idea what to do, Estela made an attempt to smile, though the smile never reached her eyes.

“Taylor,” Estela gulped, throat suddenly dry. She awkwardly nodded to supplement her acknowledgement.

Taylor’s own smile dwindled as she looked between the ripped punching bag on the ground and a very frazzled, puffy-eyed Estela. She stepped forward without thinking.

“Hey, are you okay?” Concern washed over Taylor’s features as she cautiously reached out.

Estela looked away, trying to hide her rapidly-wavering resolve. She couldn’t let Taylor see her like this. “Fine,” she said, colder than she would’ve liked.

_How am I supposed to tell her?_ Feeling more hot tears form, Estela found herself determined not to let Taylor see them and quickly wiped them away. Despite rage and despair threatening to consume her, she tried to continue without letting her emotions betray her.

“Just… fine.” Her voice cracked, and she grimaced at the sound. What she wouldn’t give to be anywhere else.

_How am I supposed to tell her?_

The lump in her throat came back. She had someone in front of her that cared -- maybe the first person who had ever been interested in her as a person and not as a weapon -- and she had to throw away that connection before they both got in too deep.

_How am I supposed to fucking tell her?_

While Estela was caught up in her internal conflict, Taylor strode over and, with trepidation, rested a hand on her shoulder. Estela was only vaguely aware of light pressure, not yet grounded enough to realize how close Taylor was standing to her.

“Hey,” Taylor’s voice was soft, gentle. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She started stroking Estela’s arm in an attempt to soothe her; it didn’t take seeing any of the tears that threatened to spill for Taylor to know that something was very off - Estela never let herself be emotionally vulnerable around others. _Maybe I should… leave? Give Estela some space?_ Taylor frowned.

Estela shook her head -- for a moment, Taylor was convinced that her ‘teacher’ just read her mind -- and muttered a string of Spanish. Taylor decided to keep quiet and continue soothing her. Though she couldn’t speak Spanish, Taylor believed that whatever Estela said sounded… utterly miserable. She figured it was best if she let her teacher take a few moments to compose herself.

“Taylor,” Estela’s voice cracked. “There’s something I… I need to tell you.” Biting down on her tongue as hard as she could, Estela did her best to stifle the emotions that threatened to keep spilling over. She refused to look at Taylor as she spoke, lest she lose her facade altogether and fall to pieces.

Taylor did her best to study Estela, as if she could gleam something from her stiff body language. Something was more than just ‘off,’ wasn’t it?

“It’s okay - whatever it is you need to say, I’m here to listen,” Taylor placed a hand on the small of Estela’s back and started lightly rubbing circles to double her soothing efforts. Her other hand, the one that was stroking the length of Estela’s arm, stopped and simply held Estela. It was quite close to a full-blown hug, but Taylor didn’t want to make matters worse by attempting to comfort Estela and only end up succeeding at smothering her.

They spent a minute or two like that, and Estela remained stiff as a board. Taylor started to feel self-conscious. She could see her efforts at comfort weren’t exactly helping, and she started to wonder if she was only making it worse by being there.

“Do you… do you want me to give you some space?” She kept rubbing Estela’s back; she didn’t want to leave, or give the impression she was going to, but if Estela needed her gone, she would do it.

She waited for a response, and didn’t get an audible one. It might have looked as if Estela was silently racking her brain with thousands of different problems, but her mind was blank. It took another few moments, but Estela, again, shook her head.

Just above a whisper, Taylor asked, “Are you sure you want me to stay?”

More silence.

“We can talk about this later - whenever you’re feeling up to it. We’ve both been through hell, and I don’t want you to go through it alone. I’ll be here, no matter what,” Taylor spoke, mixing confidence with compassion. Her voice lowered to a near-whisper as she appended, “No matter what you decide.”

It was then that Taylor felt Estela’s breathing hitch. She didn’t let out the breath for what seemed like a full minute, maybe two. Idly, Taylor made a note that apparently Estela could hold her breath for a fairly long time.

“No. Taylor,” Estela said in a shaky, broken voice, clearly struggling to articulate herself. “It has to be now.” There was an urgency in her voice that instilled a sense of dread in Taylor.

“Okay, that’s fine. I got you,” Taylor hugged Estela as warmly as she could, then let go. “Do you want to sit down, or head somewhere else to talk, or...?”

Taylor cocked her head to the side just as Estela swiveled around. Their eyes met. Time seemed to slow down for Taylor, looking upon an expression dripping with sadness - literally.

“I can’t do this, Taylor.”

Estela looked anything like Estela should: tired, puffy, red eyes, tear-soaked face, and an expression of someone overwhelmed with despair. The full picture helped cement the weight behind her words. It took a second for the meaning to register, but once it did, Taylor’s stomach plummeted. _After everything, not this. I need you, ‘Stel, please..._

“Are you… okay?” Taylor asked, feeling immediately as if it was, perhaps, the dumbest question she could have asked in all possible timelines. She waited for some sort of confirmation, but never received one.

“What can’t you do?” she gently prodded. After another second, Estela finally broke eye-contact, transfixing her gaze on the wall, or somewhere far beyond. She couldn’t bear to hear or look at Taylor -- the compassion that usually filled her voice was steadily invaded by a broken fear, and each word splintered a shard of guilt into Estela’s gut; the warmth in her gaze replaced with a shock that was leading to panic.

Estela wished she were anywhere else but there, but she knew she couldn’t leave. Instead, she had to listen and watch someone she so foolishly became attached to… start to fall apart… because of _her_.

Because of her inability to close herself off completely.

Because of her inability to protect her due to her selfishness.

Because of her carelessness.

Brown eyes clouded over as Estela’s defense mechanism kicked in, making Taylor merely a vague presence as Estela tried her hardest to desperately re-erect those walls she carelessly let fall. Hell, she had all but given Taylor the sledgehammer. _If only it could be different…_

The concern Taylor felt doubled as she saw the walls go back up in real-time. Her heart rate started to pick up. While she wasn’t sure about the exact scope of problems Estela was going through, she had a feeling another hug was in order. She silently squeezed her arms around Estela, partially in vain, to somehow retrieve Estela from deep within her; Taylor made sure it was the warmest, most loving embrace she could muster. _This isn’t good. This isn’t good. This isn’t good._

Estela muttered, too soft for Taylor to hear. Silence passed again; Taylor quickly realized that she would likely have to draw the truth out of Estela.

“I, uh, didn’t catch that. What is it you can’t do?” Taylor made sure to ask in a voice laced with reassurance and love. She bit her lip. Maybe giving her encouragement would help? Maybe it would help Estela to know that she was there, no matter what, ready and willing to shower her in affection whenever it was needed.

“If it counts for anything, I feel like you’re the most capable person I’ve ever met, Estela. If there’s something someone as amazing as you can’t do, then it’s gotta be a fool’s errand. And, it’s okay! It’s good to know your limitations--”

Cutting Taylor off, Estela spun around -- sharply ripping herself out of Taylor’s grip -- and yelled, “I can’t do _ANY OF THIS_!”

Taylor flinched and reflexively took a step back. A stunned silence separated the two of them. Estela could feel Taylor’s gaze while shame washed over her. She saw the look on Taylor’s face -- one that looked like she had just been slapped -- and felt like drawing inward.

That look of fear… that’s not how she ever wanted to make Taylor feel… _All I’m good at is hurting others around me, and this is proof._ Taylor did her best to support her, but, unfortunately, Estela just read it as pity, and anyone regarding her with pity was the last thing Estela would ever tolerate.

“I’m sorry, Taylor. I really feel… out of control. And I need to regain control in any way I know how.”

Hearing Estela’s voice snapped Taylor out of her shock. Despite the growing pit in her stomach, Taylor tried, and failed, to look anything other than hurt. _Why does it feel like she’s breaking up with me? When we aren’t even--?_

Sure, Taylor had expected Estela to blow up at some point, but not during a conversation. _I guess I just don’t know her all that well, yet… _ Dread gnawed at her. _And… maybe I won’t get a chance to get to know her better, either, if she’s pushing me away…_

“Estela, I just want to help,” Taylor started, trying to be as soothing as possible, but still managed to come off as defensive. How could she not? The girl she was developing feelings for -- _who was incredible and brave in every way and is hurting beyond belief... _\-- was pushing her away right when everyone needed each other most. Right when Taylor needed Estela’s fearlessness the most. And, maybe, when Estela needed Taylor’s optimism and honesty the most.

“I know we’ve been through nightmare-after-nightmare, and I know I can’t take away the pain you’re feeling, but I can assure you that you can get through this. And…” Taylor gulped, scared of committing to something that might just blow up in her face. She jammed her eyes shut while she tried to internally hype herself up. _God, she’s worth it, though. She’s worth all this. She shouldn’t have to go through this alone, no matter how much she’ll fight me on this._

“Taylor…”

Taylor took a second to calm herself; the pained look Estela was giving her… it instilled a surge of desperation in her.

“I care about you, Estela. More than…” Taylor sighed and closed her eyes. “More than… I should, for someone I’ve only known for a week. I really care about you, and I can’t express that enough.” Taylor felt like she was pleading, almost.

The words were like a knife through Estela’s heart; she felt as if she had been split into two warring factions: one part of her that desperately wanted to hear those words and the other that wanted to bolster against them. She wanted Taylor, wanted to explore what she felt for Taylor… but knew she couldn’t. It would just put them in more danger. No, she _had_ to find the strength, for Taylor’s sake.

“It would be best for both of us if you… l-leave,” Estela’s voice cracked with emotion. She should’ve felt good saying that, but she didn’t. Despite one half of her internal battle winning, it more accurately felt as if both sides lost.

Taylor nodded, slowly. She did her best to breathe evenly, acutely aware that her heart was beating out of her chest. Estela knew what was best for herself, and she had to respect that.

“I’ll go. It sounds like you need time and space to process,” She reached out to give Estela’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “If you’re up to it, let’s talk about this later -- maybe tonight. I’ll wait for you, I want to hear what you have to say.”

At this, Estela looked at Taylor, their eyes locking. Taylor’s heart ached. Oh, how she wanted to hold Estela close, wipe away her tears, and promise her the world.

The only thing Taylor truly wanted to say just didn’t feel appropriate, on several different levels. She couldn’t tell Estela about the dreams she had been having -- of the two of them… _married and in love_. Every night since the kiss. And it was the most glorious feeling she could have ever imagined… until she woke up. Fuck reality. _But **this** Estela wouldn’t be interested in hearing all these wild fantasies, would she?_

“When you’re ready, I’ll be here. I think we can really have a good conversation, but meanwhile?” Taylor really needed to stop biting her lip, but she couldn’t help it. “You don’t need me distracting you.”

Fire flashed in Estela’s eyes for a second. _How dare she tell me what I need? She doesn’t know me at all!_

But, before Estela could give Taylor a piece of her mind, Taylor had already turned around to leave the workout room.

Estela’s fire doused as Taylor walked out of sight. Whatever energy reserves she had momentarily tapped into properly depleted itself and Estela sank to the ground.

_I… really **am** driving her away… maybe the only person who would ever give enough of a shit about me to check up on me. And I’m driving her away._ Estela’s personal demons blinded her to the true intentions of Taylor’s invitation. While Estela took it as a sign of Taylor showing disgust and disinterest, Taylor spoke out of love. What Estela misinterpreted as being abandoned was actually a healthy sign of Taylor valuing their relationship enough for her to want to preserve it as best she can.

She got what she asked for: she was alone.

Maybe, for the first time in her life, it wasn’t what she wanted.


	3. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taylor attempts to reconcile with Estela.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for a bit of violence and gore.

Taylor had been laying on top of her bed, repeatedly tossing up a rubber ball she found at the gym. She missed lunch, and was about to miss dinner - usually she wouldn’t dare miss Raj’s cooking, but her mind was too preoccupied to think about anything other than Estela. Anxiety was bubbling within her gut, more as time had passed. Was Estela actually going to want to talk? If so, when? 

In the hours since their surprisingly emotional meeting, Taylor had uncharacteristically stayed alone, in her room. Usually, she would kill time by hanging out with Sean or Quinn by the pool, but she wasn’t in a state to be present around other people. Therefore, she figured it best to just hole up in her room - after all, she wanted Estela to be able to find her. She knew Estela wouldn’t be too eager to find her if the others were around… it was a miracle enough that Estela opened up even as much as she did, the last thing Taylor wanted was for Estela to re-erect the walls that were starting to crumble and stifle back any thoughts of opening up again. 

It had to happen tonight, Taylor resolved. If Estela didn’t come to her, she’d go find Estela. One way or another, this talk was going to happen. 

She frowned. _Whatever it is that was plaguing her… we can figure it out. _Waiting another ten minutes or so, Taylor rolled onto her side and curled up. She let the ball bounce harmlessly against the wall and settle on the floor. _I just hope she’s okay…  
_ _  
_ She closed her eyes.

* * *

  
_“Hurry up, slowpoke!” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ The two of them raced each other up a cliff-face. Taylor had no prior experience with rock-climbing, but the same clearly couldn’t be said for Estela. The taunts she yelled were getting farther and farther away. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Taylor had never been so thoroughly sore, but she needed to get to the top before she could relax. She knew she had no chance of beating Ms. “I was para-military in my formative years” Montoya. It would be a full week of non-stop teasing, that’s what she had to look forward to. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Sighing, Taylor rolled her neck to get some kinks out before finding her next hand-hold. She looked up. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ …_**_Well_**_. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ … _ _  
_ _  
_ _ At least the view was nice._

* * *

...Taylor felt like she was being ripped from one reality to another as, abruptly, the ‘daydream’ faded and started to shift into another!

* * *

  
_Estela stood over Lila’s unmoving body in The Celestial’s atrium. Stab wounds dotted Lila’s body as the ground met Estela’s knife. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Rourke appeared before her on one of the balconies, transforming her emotional state from exhausted and grieving to livid in a heartbeat. He blithely mentioned thanking Estela. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I never would’ve been able to bring myself to kill her. That’s why I needed Lila.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Estela turned slightly in order to take out her spear; she took aim, careful to accurately line up her shot as Rourke continued his smug, sociopathic monologue. It’s plain to see rage threatening to overtake her, but she does her best to regain control with cleansing, steadying breaths. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What an elegant development that her own daughter would finally close the loop,” he chuckled. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ With a yell, she let the spear fly. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ It passed right through a flickering hologram of Rourke. _ _  
_ _  
_**_BANG_ ****_  
_ ** ** _  
_ ** _“_**_Aaghh!_**_”_**   
  
**

* * *

Just when Taylor didn’t think she could physically feel worse, she felt herself getting violently thrust in several different directions as the ‘daydream’ shifted again!

* * *

_  
Taylor felt her breath hitch as she took one look at her betrothed; she was beautiful. _ _  
  
Estela looked up, her smile brightening the room more than the torches could ever hope to. A myriad of emotions played on her face -- nervousness, uncertainty, vulnerability -- but none of them could drown out the effervescent joy radiating from her.  
  
_ _As Taylor reached over to brush a few stray hairs out of her face, Estela opened her mouth to say something…  
  
_

* * *

  
Taylor ‘woke up’ from the stream of ‘daydreams,’ gasping for breath. Nausea hit her in fierce waves; she reached up to wipe sweat from her brow, dazed, idly wondering how many steps it would take to reach the bathroom.  
  
“What in the world--?” She let her breath settle as she rolled onto her back, allowing her eyes to re-adjust as she stared at the ceiling. _Okay, analyze them before freaking…_   
  
It hadn’t been the first time she ‘saw’ Estela get married to her. Seeing that brilliant smile -- nervous, but assured -- filled Taylor’s heart with warmth. Estela was breathtaking. _Well, she was breathtaking no matter what she wore. _Taylor felt heat flood her face. _…Or didn’t wear._  
  
Regardless, it was becoming a welcome ‘sight’ for sore… eyes? The initial stress of realizing the implications -- that Estela one day _could_ get married to her, that Estela _would want to_ in the first place -- were enough to send Taylor reeling. It was a scary thought, but amidst the far more terrifying daydreams that had been cropping up, she’d welcome her crush marrying her any day.  
  
The butterflies dancing in her stomach did not pair well with the nausea she had been feeling; groaning, Taylor rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. She tried to think of the rock climbing next, as a way to distract herself from how sick she felt.  
  
_Well, it _**_would_**_ be nice to take a little day trip together, wouldn’t it? Once everything blew over, that is. _The thought was soothing, even if the activity would be anything-but. Daydream!Estela must have been comfortable with her to be as playful as she was -- far more comfortable with her than her Estela was.  
  
...The Estela that was pushing her away.  
  
Taylor grimaced, internally scolding herself. She attempted to reframe the thought into something healthier: _Estela just needs space, that’s all. __  
_ _  
_ The thought of racing up a cliff-face and then watching the sunset sounded too good to be true. _How romantic… _Taylor swooned, unable to stop a dreamy sigh. The bout with the giant crab showed Taylor there were plenty of scenic views surrounding cliff-faces, and Estela would be more than capable to go climbing. The question is: would she want to?  
  
_I hope she’s okay…_   
  
The vision resurfaced of Estela looking worse for wear, crying, and distraught. More than anything, Taylor wanted to find what was distressing her and rid her of it. _Maybe then she could go back to being herself again? _But she knew she had to let Estela come to grips with her battle on her own terms. Taylor only hoped Estela wouldn’t mind a companion during her journey.  
  
Thoughts strayed reluctantly to the daydream she had been avoiding. She wanted so badly to ignore it, but she knew it had to be considered. _Especially if there’s a chance these things could be prophetic.  
_  
There was a lot to unpack. Estela had murdered Lila - that was already a hard notion to swallow. The thought of her possible-maybe-could-be-future-wife being a murderer was… a lot. _How can I stop it from happening?_ Her only consolation was the possibility of being able to prevent it. But how would she know if she was on the right track?  
  
Also, what the _fuck_ did Rourke say? Lila _killed Estela’s mother?_ And Rourke didn’t seem bothered, not by Lila being a murderer, nor his employee being murdered _in front of him _ ? What the fuck kind of psychopath _was_ Rourke, anyway?  
  
Taylor felt fire start to burn within her. He didn’t care about his employees; hell, he didn’t care about _anyone_, did he?  
  
_God. We’re on _**_his_ **_island, at _**_his_**_ resort. And he could do this, couldn’t he? He could kill her. In some future, maybe this one, he _**_will_**_ kill her.__  
_ _  
_ Taylor’s blood ran cold.  
  
_What are these daydreams trying to tell me? Are they truly views into the future? Or just _**_a_ **_possible future? Is Estela in danger?_

“I have to warn her!” Taylor said, bolting upright. She leapt off the bed, driven to find the constant subject of her daydreams. 

Just as she ran over and opened the door, she nearly ran right into…  
  
“Estel--!”  
  
“No, Tay. Diego. _Diego_.”  
  
Sure enough, her closest friend from Hartfeld was standing right outside, arm still poised as if to knock on the door. Taylor realized too late that she was unable to hide the disappointment on her face. As nice as Diego was, he was not the “unexpected visitor” she wanted to see at that moment. She felt her stress double. _If she’s not here, then where…? _  
  
“So! Uh, hey,” Diego said, not-so-smoothly scooting past Taylor into her room. “What’s… been goin’ on with you?”  
  
Diego was hardly good at ice breakers. College parties with him were a lesson in secondhand embarrassment… at least until his blood-alcohol levels were high enough. Taylor idly wondered if Diego would ever show his evil, drunk alter ego, ‘Skylar,’ while they were here on this island.

Shutting the door with a sigh, Taylor turned around to find Diego was sitting on her bed, already having picked up the ball that was on the ground and started absentmindedly tossing it back and forth.

While Diego was distracting himself, likely from his anxiety, he spoke up as Taylor sat next to him on the bed.   
  
“So, what kept you cooped up in here all day?” His eyes never left the ball. “I, uh, assume that’s where you’ve been,” he continued, then stopped! Eyes wide, he faced Taylor with a suddenly coy expression.  
  
“_Unless…_” Diego Diego’d with his good ol’ fashioned Diego-smirk.  
  
Taylor rolled her eyes preemptively and sank into the pillows. “Unless _what?_” She looked up to find Diego waggling his eyebrows at her. 

“Diego!” Taylor reached behind her and smacked him over the head with a pillow. “No! Nothing like that is going on,” she huffed. 

She continued, “Besides, there’s not even anyone here I--”

* * *

  
_“I, uh, I love you, Taylor,” Estela said, seemingly finally becoming comfortable with allowing herself to be vulnerable. There was no hesitation, no fear. Her eyes smouldered with a fire all too familiar, a fire of longing, of desire. She then leaned forward to claim Taylor’s lips in her own.  
  
_

* * *

  
Diego’s laughing snapped Taylor out of her ‘daydream,’ and she ‘came to’ with a loud gasp. 

“Yeah, you’re_ so _not convincing me with that!” He laughed, then bought his hands up to his face to imitate Taylor’s voice in a comically high-pitched voice, “Oh Diego, I’m just pining over one of our _oh-so-lovely _classmates, it’s _no big_, though!” 

Taylor frowned. “Please, Tay! At least invite me to your wedding!” He nudged her, playfully. Though he was a fairly textbook example of social anxiety and had the social grace of a well-read caterpillar, it didn’t stop him from being able to read his closest friend, nor did it stop him from wanting to cheer that closest friend up.  
  
“Ugh!” was all Diego was graced with before Taylor slumped back onto her bed. The word “wedding” spawned the image she saw earlier -- of Estela, at _their _wedding, and it didn’t seem like any sort of traditional one, either. God, she was beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, she didn’t realize her breath hitched as she stared off into an Estela-flavoured distance that only she could see. 

Diego watched this happen, intrigued, and keen to interrupt. He waited until Taylor was just the right amount of glassy-eyed, and then…

“**SO**… who’s the lucky guy?” Diego was relishing in Taylor getting spooked out of her daydream. Still disoriented from her ‘daydream,’ she thoughtlessly blurted out, “She’s not _ a guy_! She’s--!”  
  
Realizing what she said, she clamped her hands over her mouth, then groaned again. In a soft voice, she finished.  
  
“...She’s… incredible.”  
  
“Whoa-hoh, Tay! I didn’t realize you were _one of us_,” Diego nudged her with a wink. Not missing a beat, he continued. “So, who _is _the lucky lady?”  
  
Face and tone betraying how miserable she felt, Taylor simply grumbled out, “Estela.”  
  
Diego’s eyebrows shot up, his sly act dropped for moment in genuine shock. “T-the… loner? The _dangerous _loner?”  
  
A beat.  
  
“The… person whose name you screamed last night at the party?”  
  
Taylor sat up, and this time, it was her turn to smirk. “I thought you nicknamed her “The Mysterious Hottie.”  
  
“Well, y-yeah!” Diego gestured dramatically. “Look at her! She’s badass! She’s wild! She might be a bit insane!” He paused to look at Taylor, wondering if that comment was a step too far. She didn’t seem to care, so he dared to ask, “I know you value your life -- and we both know she’s one helluva hottie -- but **why her**?” He spaced out those last two words to punctuate them further.  
  
“She could kill you! In your sleep! Hell, in _her _sleep! You saw how she handled that stupid crab!”

Taylor thought for a moment and Diego watched her. She didn’t have any immediate plans on spilling the news that she’s likely hallucinating possible futures -- all of them featuring Estela and… getting married to her, somehow --, even to Diego. But, well, if she _were _to spill the beans to anyone, it’d be to him. 

Seeing her grapple with… _something_, Diego wanted speak up to ease some of the tension. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t have a reason, sometimes just seeing someone act impressive is enough to spark some of those--” he nudged her, eyebrows in Full Waggle Mode™, “--_feelings_.”  
  
Taylor snorted, feeling a bit more at ease. The stress building up from the entire day -- which had, subsequently, been building up for the past week -- slowly started to, finally, dwindle. She could always count on Diego to relieve her stress.  
  
“It’s a bit more than _just _feelings, but I’m afraid I’ll sound insane if I told you what’s been going on.”  
  
Having zero regard for whatever weirdness she could be telling him and, instead, having all possible regard for romance-laden gossip, Diego’s eyes got big with excitement. “Ooh, tell me tell me tellmetellme_tellme_!”  
  
“Uh,” Taylor grimaced. “I think I’m… seeing futures? That could exist?” She glanced at him to gauge how weirded out he’d be. Seeing only mild confusion, she continued.  
  
“And… all of them contain Estela.”  
  
Suddenly, all of that confusion was gone and his excitement seemed to double. He spoke faster than normal, “So, it’s like a kinda deja vu feeling, but it keeps happening? Weird. Maybe Grace or someone smart can help you figure that out,” and with virtually zero break in-between the thoughts, Diego blurted out, “So, did future-you and future-Estela get down and dirty?”  
  
Taylor, who had been drinking water that was at her bedside, did a full-fledged spit-take. Not being able to help it, she glared at Diego, face beet red.  
  
“I--! That’s none of your _business_!”  
  
Diego’s expression only flustered Taylor more. He whispered, “You like Krabby Patties… don’t you, Squidward?” to complete his iconic reference-quota for the day. Taylor didn’t know what it meant, only that Diego was looking at her with this… _look. _ This _knowing look, _ as if he knew everything that… happened? Or was _going _to happen? Taylor had no clue how to navigate the daydreams/memories/visions.  
  
Being used to most not getting his references, Diego moved on fairly quickly, trying to adopt a remotely serious face, but partially failing.  
  
“If you need to get anything off your chest, I’m here, Tay’,” Diego said, in a caring tone. He mentally high-fived himself for resisting the sexual innuendo that was on the tip of his tongue.  
  
Taylor tried to busy herself with wiping off the excess water on her shirt, acting as if finding a towel was the most important thing in her life to find; definitely not in any thinly-veiled attempt to hide the flaming red blush on her face. Diego watched her, still smirking. As she ran to the attached bathroom, Diego wondered, _What did Taylor do to get Estela to open up? Wasn’t she the 11th winner? How did Tay get mixed up with her? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ ...Is this why she yelled Estela’s name last night? __  
_ _  
_ “Well,” Taylor huffed, still fixated on drying off her shirt with a towel as she plopped herself back on the bed. “I can safely answer that, _no_, Estela and I _did not _have sex.” Taylor’s blush refused to wane, as the thought itself started to creep into her mind…  
  
Diego tried to get Taylor to look him in the face again. “C’mon, Tay. What’s been going on?” He paused to let her try to work through the clouds of desire floating in her mind.  
  
“I mean, isn’t she the one _not _supposed to be here? Y’know, the 11st contest winner?” Diego made a flourishing gesture. “Doesn’t that make her kinda… unnerving to you? How’d you get involved with her?”  
  
Finally, Taylor sighed and looked up. Diego saw a mix of too many emotions written on her face; he knew he likely couldn’t coax out all of the truth in one conversation. He decided to keep giving it a shot, as long as she’d let him. He didn’t want her exploring dangerous territory alone, after all; underneath the teasing was a genuine concern for her well-being.  
  
They looked in the other’s eyes, searching for something unknown, both lost in thought. It was Taylor who broke the silence.  
  
“We… never really got _involved_, per se,” Taylor said, cautiously. “We, uh. We kissed. And--”  
  
Diego’s flailing stopped her. “Hold up, hold up! You guys _actually _kissed?!” Taylor’s blush got deeper. She nodded. Diego grinned wide.  
  
“You _go, _ tiger!” he said, lightly punching her arm. He wanted all the juicy tidbits, but restrained himself as best as he could, for Taylor’s sake.  
  
Well, he could only hold back so much.  
  
“What was it like? Was it good? Was… _she _good?” Diego asked, eyes shining with excitement. He had to admit, watching a normally level-headed Taylor get flustered was pretty satisfying.  
  
Mind clouded with the vision of Estela in that non-traditional marriage outfit, and the kiss that came after, Taylor gulped, loudly. “Y-yeah,” she stuttered, voice higher-pitched than usual. “She was… _good_.” She paused to exhale deeply.  
  
“...Really good.”  
  
Diego practically jumped on her, landing as close as he could to her on the bed. He moved to lay on his stomach, elbows propped up and head resting in his hands. His eyes were like big, brown orbs.  
  
“And how did this magical meeting even _happen_?” he coaxed. Sitting sideways on the bed, she turned to face him, though still had some trouble retaining eye-contact with him. 

“At the… gym, a few days into the trip. It wasn’t supposed to turn into anything!” she said, surprisingly defensive. Diego figured it was more at herself than at him and waited for her to continue. 

“She just… offered to teach me how to fight,” Taylor muttered, a dreamy look covering her expression. She seemed to snap out of it to say, excitedly, “She’s _really good, _ Diego!”  
  
He just grinned. “I got _that much, _ Tay. Your face is _still _bright red, y’know,” he teased. Taylor’s eyes widened.  
  
“No, no! Not _that_!” She exclaimed, then paused. “Not… _just _that,” she added, quieter, with a small smile. She shook her head of intrusive, steamy thoughts and continued, “But no, she’s a _really _good fighter! She must know ten different styles of martial arts!”  
  
Diego almost considered reminding Taylor that he knew she could fight, but decided to let her have this moment. Taylor wasn’t the type to really gush, so this was a refreshing change of pace. He grinned, reveling in his closest friend’s first Bonafide Gay Experience™. A “BGE,” he’d called it when they were at Hartfeld. Finally, he wasn’t alone.  
  
“You know how weird shit’s going down on this island? I think Estela could be our secret weapon!” Taylor was really, strangely, proud of this person she hardly knew. She seemed to really trust her, and in such a short period of time… that was what was weird to Diego. Sure, surface-level attraction was easy to sus out, but trust had to be _earned_. Through _time_.  
  
...How much time did Taylor actually spend with Estela?  
  
Redirecting the convo, Diego interjected. “So, the gym, huh? Is she really buff?” For a moment, Taylor gawked.  
  
“Y-_yes_! I’ve never seen more defined abs on a human being before!” Taylor’s eyes were finally as wide as saucers, too.  
  
“Was it too hot in there?” Diego’s eyebrow waggling returned in full force. “Did you two get all _sweaty? _ Was she--”  
  
“**_Yes_**_!_ Okay?! Yes, she was! She was _everything_! She was sweaty, she was hot, she was… _incredible! _ She was all that and a bag of chips!” Taylor yelled, nearly out of breath. This was seeming more and more like a therapy session to Diego with each passing minute.  
  
Instead of Taylor getting into the juicy goodies of their steamy encounter, she got surprisingly silent and introspective, rather suddenly. Diego’s eyebrow waggling stopped, leaving them both piqued.  
  
“She just…” Taylor nearly whispered. She absent-mindedly stroked her arm. “The thing is, I started seeing those… _visions _I told you about before.” She looked up at Diego, a hint of fear in her eyes.  
  
“If you could gaze into the future,” Diego half mumbled, half sang. “You might think life would be a breeze…”  
  
Taylor didn’t get the reference, opting to ignore it and keep going. “Diego, I don’t know what they are, but they keep happening. They _feel _like… memories? Despite none of them actually having _happened?” _The urgency in Taylor’s voice brought out Diego’s concern, again. He was relieved that Estela wasn’t threatening to Taylor, and that whole thing seemed to be, as far as he could tell… fine? But perhaps… whatever this is… should be the real cause for concern. 

“They… keep happening? Like, the same one over and over?” Diego asked, frowning. Taylor looked at him, fear still swimming in her eyes. 

“No, not quite. It’s like… memories that keep getting _unlocked _somehow -- it’s like, when they pop up, they get stored as a _real _memory that I can access at anytime. But _new ones _keep appearing at random.” Taylor looked down at her hands, as if whatever strange power she had was secretly harnessed through her palms.  
  
She whispered, “I just… I now have this insanely strong connection to Estela… and she has _no idea. _ ”  
  
“You mean that you _haven’t _told her about these “visions,” or--?”  
  
“No! Well, I _did_, but didn’t disclose the full extent of them.”  
  
“And? Does she think you’re nuts?” Diego asked, leaning forward a bit.  
  
A glare. “No, she doesn’t. She told me she’s… had some, too.”  
  
Diego’s eyes widened. “Then… there you go! You can totally tell her everything - she gets it!”  
  
“It’s… it’s not so simple, D.”  
  
She looked back at Diego, searching his eyes for support. It took Taylor a minute, but after moving her lips wordlessly in an attempt to string together her thoughts, she finally said it:  
  
“I saw us _get married_, Diego.”  
  
It was Diego’s turn to spit-take, and he wasn’t even drinking anything.  
  
“You… _what?” _ Diego asked, incredulous. He started to giggle, which slowly morphed into hard laughter.  
  
Taylor looked at him strictly. “Diego! This isn’t funny, this is serious!” He stopped laughed for a minute to wipe a tear from his eye and look at Taylor. Upon seeing the stern look, he grimaced.  
  
“You, ah, really _are _taking a liking to her, huh? You don’t have to actually adopt her facial mannerisms, too, y’know,” Diego said, frowning. What if Estela influenced Taylor to be less fun and more serious? He didn’t want to lose his closest friend to her girlfriend. Wait, _were _they dating, even?  
  
He opened his mouth to ask, but Taylor cut him off.  
  
“Listen. I don’t know _why _this is happening, or _what _any of this means. They all feel like possible futures that I’ve… somehow lived through? Because how else would they feel like _memories? _ ”  
  
Diego scratched his head. “Iunno, Tay’ - maybe it’s some fuckery the island is doing? I mean, you didn’t start having these… _visions_… of her before we got here, did you?”  
  
Taylor thought back as far as she could. Strangely, she could only remember snippets of their time at Hartfeld, but she remembered the plane ride just fine. That part made some sense to her, at least, since it happened a little more than a week ago. Stroking her chin thoughtfully, she went through the vivid memory of the plane ride before it started to crash in the storm.  
  
There was Quinn, having what seemed to be a panic attack, Sean’s confident, friendly smile… Estela wasn’t really--  
  
Wait, she was sitting in the back by herself. They held eye contact for a bit, didn’t they? There was something about her _even then, _ even in their _first meeting_…  
  
Taylor’s eyes shot open, her heart started to race.  
  
“Diego,” her voice shook. She reached blindly for him as her sights were fixated on a memory only she could see.  
  
Without saying anything, Diego reached out and gently took hold of her hand. Whatever this was, he wanted her to know that he was there, and going to be there. No matter what.  
  
“Diego, there was… _something _about her, even on the plane!” The nervous way she said that instilled some nerves in Diego, too.  
  
“Is that… a bad thing? Did she look at you the wrong way, or…?”  
  
Taylor shook her head. “No--” She stopped to consider for a second. “...Okay, well, she still had that look on her face… you know, the default ‘I don’t need anyone’ look she always has…” Diego snickered.  
  
“But nothing bad happened between us. She seemed so disinterested in the rest of us, but when we locked eyes, it was like neither of us could look away. I swear, I saw a spark of something in her eyes… Maybe recognition?” Taylor trailed off. Diego squeezed her hand.  
  
“That’s _probably _because she saw you at school. Y’know, in passing, somewhere, like the commons, or something.” Diego hoped his attempts at calming Taylor down were helping.  
  
Unfortunately, Taylor’s brow furrowed. “No, you’re not listening to me -- I _saw _something _different _in her. It was on _both sides, _ because while I knew I had _never _seen her before, she just felt …_so familiar…” _ Taylor trailed off again, seemingly concentrating on finding an unknowable explanation without reading Estela’s mind.  
  
She saw him giving her a skeptical look and explained patiently, “When you walk past someone on campus, and you see them again months later, they wouldn’t stand out to you. That’s just not how brains work. Unless they talked to you or they were doing something really out of place - _maybe _then you’d recognize them in a different setting. But you know that even _you _struggle to recognize the people you see in class _every day_,” Taylor finished with a cheeky grin.  
  
Diego mocked a scowl. “Oh, fine, fine. You got me,” he held up his hands in mock defeat. “So there’s no prior connection, okay… so, where are these constant deja vu feelings coming into play, and why?”  
  
“That’s just the thing! _I don’t know!” _ Taylor frowned, brows knit in concentration again.  
  
“I can’t seem to find a connection to all of the separate instances of getting a vision,” she muttered. Diego hummed thoughtfully.  
  
“So, there’s no identifiable trigger? No common denominator to sus out?” he prodded, eyebrow quirked.  
  
“Not a one. At least, not from what I can tell. They seem to be triggered at random,” she spaced out for a moment. “...but I definitely seem to get them more often when I’m with her.”  
  
Diego started to sit up and stretch. “Well, that part makes sense, at least. If you’re unearthing these… “memories” of her, it’d make sense that she herself would be spurring them on.” Taylor looked at him and nodded.  
  
“Yeah… that much is true,” Taylor muttered. Watching Diego sit up to swing his legs over the side of the bed, she made a move to plop herself back onto the bed, relishing in the comfort of the blankets engulfing her.  
  
“I just…” she started, then stopped. There were so many questions and only a few answers… and even then, that didn’t actually solve any of the mysteries, just provided some context.  
  
“Diego… I’m married. I’m _married _to Estela. How do I… How do I even…?” she trailed off, glancing off to the side, not quite focused on the night sky as she stared blankly out the window.  
  
Diego lazily stood up and starting stretching in a few different positions -- Taylor heard a few audible cracks and pops -- and he turned back and shrugged.  
  
“You… tell her what you told me,” he said, a little exasperated. “What are you expecting her to do when you tell her?” Diego started to look drained, or, perhaps, a little bored. Or maybe, hungry. Taylor had no idea if Diego came to see her before or after dinner was served -- she had lost track of time.  
  
She thought about his question, then looked up to notice him head toward the door.  
  
“Listen, you think about that -- think about what you really expect her to say… and what you hope to actually accomplish from telling her this… _weirdness_… that you’re… ‘wives’, or whatever.” He reached for the door handle. “...And I’ll leave you to it - I’ve gotta head down and see if Raj has any leftovers, I’m starving!” He opened the door and was halfway out when he said, “I’ll see if he can whip up a leftover portion for you. I’ll tell him to label it so you can find it in the fridge when you’re ready, okay?”  
  
Not waiting for an answer, Diego left with a kind, yet tired smile, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Taylor sighed deeply, sinking as far into her bed as she could manage. Surprisingly, despite doing nothing but run mental laps around herself, fatigue threatened to overwhelm her. But, well, with all the stress that had been accumulating, it made sense for her to listen to her body and just take it easy.  
  
She shut her eyes, replaying parts of the conversation with Diego in her mind. Before she knew it, she was asleep.  


* * *

  
_It was surprisingly cold on the island -- it was strange to see snow. Taylor noticed her group starting to head to their respective tents as night fell. She didn’t know why, but she felt an inescapable feeling of apprehension. Realizing she didn’t actually have her own tent, she realized she needed to share with someone. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ ...And, she realized she needed any sort of comfort she could get. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Without knowing how she knew, she felt her legs head toward one of the tents, as if on auto-pilot. Opening up the flap, she saw Estela laying down, staring up at her. In only her underwear. __  
_ _  
_

* * *

_  
_ Taylor woke up with a start, the image of a nearly-naked Estela burned into her memory. Of course, at this point, she _had _“seen” Estela fully nude, before. Just… not when trying to sleep.  
  
“Ughh,” Taylor covered her face with her hands and rolled over, trying to will herself back to sleep. Hopefully, a calm dream would visit her, this time.  
  
After another few minutes, Taylor drifted back off…

* * *

  
_“Taylor!” she heard Estela gasp, then yell out, “I love you! I love you!” as her back arched and hips bucked at Taylor’s touch. Estela’s ragged breathing and whimpers seemed to echo across the tent.__  
_ _  
_

* * *

_  
_ Taylor woke up with a loud gasp. Her face, no, her entire body felt like it was on fire. Sweat beaded on her face.  
  
“Okay, brain, that just wasn’t fair,” she muttered to herself, trying to catch her breath. _How am I supposed to sleep after _**_that_**_?_  
  
It took a second, but the image returned to her mind, complete with dream-audio. _The look on her face as she… _If even possible, Taylor’s face got even hotter. Okay, no, sleep was not going to be an option. Maybe a night stroll would do her some good.

Leaping out of bed, as if the bed alone contained the steamy thoughts she was trying desperately to avoid, Taylor headed to the bathroom connected to her room. She splashed water on her face and the back of her neck - if she were going out, even for a walk, she wanted to at least look slightly less disheveled. _I guess she’s not planning on a visit tonight. If I’m lucky, I might get to see her out there…_

After hastily throwing on some clothes, Taylor left.  


* * *

Leaving The Celestial, Taylor was hit with the sounds of jovial yelling and splashing. Perhaps, it was a prime night for a late-night pool party? To be honest, Taylor wasn’t exactly sure what time it was, only that it was dark out. 

As she stepped outside, a beach ball bounced and dribbled to her feet. 

“Hey, Princess! Glad you could join us!” came a familiar voice. Jake. She turned to scope him out in the pool and saw him grinning. It looked like there was a friendly team game of beach ball 'volleyball' going on. She might have guessed Jake “missed” his target on purpose.  
  
“C’mon, dude! Pass it here!” Craig jumped up, arms waving. It seems that he was on the team opposite Jake. It looked like Sean was on Craig’s team, while Michelle was on Jake’s.  
  
“Ugh. Out of bounds, Jake, _really_?” came Michelle’s disgusted voice. “Next game, I’m playing with Quinn,” she crossed her arms, eye roll nearly audible.  
  
Quinn was sitting on the side of the pool with her legs dangling in the water, looking perfectly content to watch. At Michelle’s quasi-invitation to play, she suddenly became bashful.  
  
“W-wait, really? You want _me _to play?” Quinn asked in disbelief. Michelle simply turned to her with a small smirk. 

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? I think we’d make a stellar team, wouldn’t you?” Michelle nudged Quinn for good effect, trying to assure her that she was genuine.

While everyone was distracted with Michelle and Quinn’s interaction, Taylor picked up the ball and grinned, yelling “Hey, Quinn! Think fast!”

Quinn snapped out of her moment to watch Taylor rear back and throw the beach ball as hard as she could…  
  
...and missed, terribly. The ball barely made it to the net.  
  
After a moment for everyone to realize what just happened, a few of them, Jake, Quinn, and Sean, started to laugh.  
  
“Wow, Taylor, you’re a real contender, aren’t you?” Sean teased, grinning wide.  
  
Others, like Craig and Michelle, were less than pleased. It seems like they were taking their game a little seriously. While there was a mix of “Aw, _come on_!” and “Really? _Really_, Taylor?” in the air, Taylor simply smiled to herself and started to walk off toward the beach.  
  
“Gotta go, guys, have fun with your game!” She called out, already heading over.  
  
“Taylor! Wait up!” she heard, and turned around at the sound of water sloshing as someone got out of the pool. It was Sean, who was jogging over.  
  
“Hey, you wanna join us? We could always use you for the next game,” he asked, smiling his oh-so-charming smile. In a lower voice, he added, “Plus, it’d be nice to wipe that smirk off of Jake’s face…”  
  
Blinking at what sounded to be genuine dislike of Jake, Taylor stalled for a second, eyes flitting back and forth from Sean to the pool. _It does sound fun… and I could probably use the distraction right now…_  
  
Taking another moment to herself, she finally responded, “Ah, maybe when I’m done? Honestly, it looks like a blast. Can I get a raincheck?” She saw the flash of disappointment in Sean’s eyes, but it was only there for a second.  
  
“Sure thing, Taylor.” He added, voice quiet enough to prevent others than listening in, “Are you doing okay? We didn’t see you at dinner…” he trailed off. Taylor’s eyes widened; she was in disbelief that anyone besides Diego actually noticed her absence.  
  
“Uh, y-yeah! Just some… personal stuff,” she explained, as vague as she could muster. She noticed Sean looking at her with a combined expression of confusion and concern, and felt his hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Hey, I get it. Sometimes you just need to be alone, other times you need to be surrounded by others just to cope, y’know?”  
  
Taylor smiled. She didn’t know Sean too well, yet, but she could tell that he was a genuinely compassionate guy. She almost wanted to invite him on the walk with her…  
  
...almost.  
  
She nodded; thankfully, he got the hint that she didn’t feel up to opening up about her… _issue_… just yet.  
  
“Do you want company? Y’know, on your walk?” He asked. Taylor gave an apologetic smile, “No, I’ll be alright,” she told him, nervously rubbing the back of her neck.  
  
“...Raincheck on that, too? Honestly, it sounds like a real nice time,” she added, as a compliment. She inwardly winced -- maybe she _did _come across as desperate, like Michelle said on the plane. Sean likely heard the lion’s share of compliments about him as the college’s star quarterback, but he didn’t show any sort of boredom or annoyance from what she said. Instead, he smiled warmly. Taylor returned it in kind. _Note to self: become friends with Sean. Didn’t expect his popularity and stardom not to inflate his ego…__  
_ _  
_ “I understand, Taylor,” he said with a nod. “You take it easy; I’m always here if you need to talk.”  
  
She flashed him a grin. “Thanks, Sean. You’re real sweet, I’m sorry I couldn’t join you tonight,” she said, regretfully. Sean had already turned back to the pool and waved toward her.  
  
“That’s okay! Remember, it’s always a party when you’re around!” Sean grinned again, then ran and slammed an enormous cannonball into the pool to many loud, waterlogged objections.  
  
Taylor giggled to herself as she walked past and onto the beach. She was definitely going to have to spend some time to get to know everyone better; they were a weird group, but seemed to be a fun distraction if she ever needed one.  
  
And, although she _did _need one, she also had a goal, tonight: find Estela.

That is, if she was still awake. And outside.

Taylor spent some time walking lazily along the shore. The only reliable marker she had as to how far she traveled was the sound of young, possibly drunk, adults whooping being slowly replaced by the island’s natural ambiance.

The stars were irresistible; the complete lack of light pollution made the stars shine brighter than anywhere else Taylor had been. The sounds of the shore and the sights of the stars ended up working in calming her down. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt at peace in a way she hadn’t before she got to La Huerta, and it was, ironically, during a day filled with tension. If it was being in nature, if it was being away from the others… whatever the reason… Taylor was grateful for the tranquility.  
  
All sights and sounds of The Celestial had long been gone, and Taylor wondered how long she’d go before she had to loop back and rejoin society. Honestly, she had to do this more often; it was so tempting to stick around and get to know everyone better, but she ended up sacrificing these moments of peaceful introspection by doing so. Nature ruled, who knew?  
  
Though her sights were focused mostly on the endless sky, Taylor glanced ahead and noticed movement. It was too dark to make out the figure or what it was doing, and, whatever it was, it didn’t seem to notice she was approaching. Taylor stiffened. _Maybe it was some sort of jungle predator?_  
  
Wanting to see what she was going to be dealing with, Taylor decided to stop in her tracks, careful not to make any sudden movements. Thankfully, she had calmed down significantly, or else she might’ve expected the worst if this thing was in her way earlier.  
  
The most noticeable thing was the movement; whatever it was didn’t appear to be moving closer or farther away, but rather performing several movements in place. It was repetitive. Taylor exhaled in relief. She had a feeling that whatever it was, it wasn’t interested in attacking her. _Should I call out? __  
_ _  
_Feeling bold, Taylor took a few tentative steps forward, then paused. After a second, noticing there was no difference -- the other was either ignoring her or unaware -- Taylor started to feel bold. 

“H-Hello?” she called out, rather quietly. She wasn’t sure if the noise of the tide drowned her out or not. No change, yet. Feeling a resolve, Taylor took another few steps forward and called out again, a bit louder.

“Hello? Hey there…” 

The figure finally paused. Taylor was close enough to tell it was a human who appeared to be sitting in the sand. Maybe it was someone from her group? Or maybe… _Oh god, are there natives on this island? Please tell me there aren’t, or at least they understand English… _  
  
Cautiously approaching, Taylor raised her arms to indicate she wasn’t any sort of threat. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you…”  
  
“No shit, cabron.”  
  
The reply was tinged with a resentment she didn’t want to hear. Especially because she recognized the voice, and no doubt they recognized her, as well.  
  
Taking a second for herself, Taylor stopped and simply asked, “Estela?”  
  
Not moving, the figure simply grunted. “Who did you think it was?”  
  
Taylor flinched; that was the second response dripping with spite. _I must have really fucked up, earlier, huh?_

Whatever it took, she was resolved to fix this. 

...and maybe fuck it up again, depending on how much she said.  
  
Taylor moved to sit down in the sand several feet away, not minding the tide that sometimes washed half-way up her legs.  
  
She carefully broached conversation, again, despite the gut feeling telling her it was a bad idea. _I need to talk to her; I told her I would. I might get yelled at, but this needs to happen, _ she internally pep-talked.  
  
“Hey, Estela, it’s Taylor--” as she unnecessarily restated the obvious, she realized that it was a lame start to the conversation. Estela shifted, about to say something, but apparently deciding against it.  
  
“--Yeah, that probably wasn’t too hard to figure out, was it?” Taylor rushed through her words, embarrassed.  
  
Estela gestured to the sky as she spoke, “I can see you through the moonlight.” It was more deadpan than spiteful. Progress.  
  
“Do you think I can’t tell what your voice sounds like? Or how you walk?” she pressed, frustrated at the lack of credit Taylor was giving her.  
  
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t freak out because I snuck up on you! I wanted to make sure you didn’t think I was going to attack you, or something,” Taylor defended, hands up.  
  
Estela snorted. “I don’t think you could sneak up on me, much less _attack _me, if you tried,” she challenged, jokingly. Taylor wasn’t sure, but it sounded like there was a smirk on her face.

Taylor took a second to puzzle out the best way to approach this topic. It seemed Estela was still agitated, but maybe that could be reversed? But, at the same time, she didn’t want to push Estela into a serious conversation if she wasn’t feeling up to it… and risk driving her further away. Maybe even literally.

“Listen,” Taylor leaned towards her. “I couldn’t find you earlier… I wanted to talk; clear the air…” She paused and added, almost a mutter, “...admit a few things…”  
  
She saw Estela lean backwards defensively, her body language stiff. “Yeah?” was all Estela responded with, her voice a bit rough.  
  
“Y-yeah…” Taylor stuttered, trying to keep the ball rolling. “I’m, uh, sorry I interrupted what-whatever you would doing…--”  
  
“Pilates,” came Estela’s stony reply.  
  
“--oh! Okay, pilates,” Taylor corrected, feeling a bit bashful, though unsure why. “I’m sorry I interrupted your pilates, but I needed to finish what we started this morning. I couldn’t let us go on another day -- or four -- without talking about what happened.” Taylor absent-mindedly, and perhaps nervously, started to trace clumsy spirals in the sand with a finger.  
  
There was a pause; Taylor couldn’t make out what Estela was feeling and she found herself holding her breath in anticipation.  
  
“Hmm,” came a throaty grumble. Estela seemed to be weighing her options. Abruptly, she stood up, brushing some of the sand off of her legs.  
  
“...Estela--?”  
  
“No,” came the curt reply. It looked like Estela was moving to gather a few of her things that were scattered around… which meant that she was about to leave. _I’ve gotta stop her! _  
  
Attempting to jump to her feet as well, but faltering and almost losing balance, Taylor’s arms went out at her sides to grasp at leverage that wasn’t there. She fell back into the sandy tide. Estela didn’t seem to pay her any mind and continued.  
  
“Hey, wait!” Taylor yelled, a bit more desperate than she would’ve liked. What was it about Estela that made it so easy for her to lose her cool?  
  
Oh, right: they’re both married in some possible future, and yet, unaware.  
  
_Yeah, that would do it._   
  
Wait, was that in a different universe, or maybe in the future? Does that mean that the two of them were _destined to…? _ No, no _no_! Taylor did not need to be distracted by those thoughts! Her goal was started to shift, and she needed to adapt to it.

Successfully standing up by herself and, therefore, putting all babies to shame, Taylor jogged over to where Estela was. 

“Hey,” Taylor started, voice soft. She saw Estela stiffen, again. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier -- can we talk about it?”  
  
Estela didn’t move; she was bent over to put some things in a pack she brought, but seemed paralyzed at the choice she had. There was an internal struggle she didn’t want Taylor to find out about.

“...and say what?” came Estela’s reply, soft and tinged with sadness. She straightened up, picking the pack up, attaching her spear to it, and slinging it over her shoulder. 

“There’s nothing _to _say, Taylor,” Estela continued, her reply returning to stony and forceful. Not waiting for a response, she started to walk away, in the opposite direction of the resort… farther into the jungle.  
  
“Hey!” Taylor yelled, running up and putting a hand on Estela’s shoulder, in an effort to stop her. “You can’t avoid this; we _need _to talk,” it was Taylor’s turn to sound forceful. As the grip on Estela’s shoulder tightened, her determination shone through. Taylor couldn’t see it, but Estela looked genuinely impressed, her eyebrows piqued. She wasn’t sure Taylor had it in her to be assertive, and was happy to be proven wrong.  
  
Estela stopped and shifted her weight, turning to face Taylor. For the first time, she faced the moonlight and Taylor was able to actually see her face.  
  
...Which is when Taylor’s hyper-focused brain shorted out.  
  
_Holy… Estela looks so… striking, _ was the only thought flooding Taylor’s mind. The way the moonlight highlighted the sheen of sweat on Estela’s forehead from the workout she was doing, the way her eyes shone with that determined hardness, the way that her strong cheekbones illuminated against the otherwise-soft curvature of her face…  
  
There was a memory threatening to bubble up, but Taylor tried her best to shake it away before she became too entranced.  
  
Unfortunately, this was the wrong time for Taylor’s breath to be taken away by the beauty radiating off of Estela, as this was the moment Estela gave her to speak her piece. Estela’s face showed a mixture of interest and confusion, before settling on annoyance.  
  
“Listen, if you’re just going to waste my time...” she muttered, attempting to face away from Taylor once more. Surprisingly, Estela sounded a bit… hurt. That snapped Taylor out of it.  
  
“Wha--? No! No, _no_, Estela,” Taylor ran to stand in front of Estela, fairly ineffectually blocking her from continuing. Of course, Estela always had the choice to walk past and leave, but Taylor wanted to prove how much she wanted this to the one person who didn’t seem to want to believe it.  
  
Frustration betraying her, Taylor sighed forcefully. She looked at Estela again, who seemed more determined to leave, but didn’t make any signs yet to keep moving. It didn’t seem like Estela wanted to be completely alone.  
  
“Estela,” Taylor repeated, fumbling around to reach for one of Estela’s hands. Estela stiffened at the touch, but quickly relaxed. Taylor’s touch was gentle, reassuring; this was just more proof that Taylor cared for her, wasn’t it? Taylor _wanted _to be around her…  
  
“Yes?” came Estela’s surprisingly husky reply. Apparently, Taylor wasn’t the only one struggling with keeping impure thoughts at bay. _Not that kissing Estela would ever be impure, _ Taylor defended her own thought, to herself.

“I... “ Taylor quickly realized she never really knew _ what _ she wanted to say to Estela. Maybe she should start at the beginning. “Estela, there’s a …_lot_. There’s a lot I need to say, and I’m sure there’s a lot you need to say, too.” Taylor looked down and squeezed her hand, and, to her surprise, felt it returned.

“I need you know that… I don’t regret what happened a few days ago.” If Taylor were looking up, she’d notice Estela’s eyes widen.  
  
“I don’t regret it at all. I… really liked what happened, and…” Taylor bit her lip. Her heart was starting to race. This was tougher than she thought it’d be.  
  
“...and…?” Estela asked, barely a whisper.  
  
“...And, I, uh. Wouldn’t m-mind doing that again,” Taylor felt her face burn and her hands start to sweat. It was hard to admit her ongoing attraction to the person she felt the attraction towards.  
  
Taylor closed her eyes, expected to feel Estela wrench her hand of her grasp, turn on her heel, and leave. Instead, she felt a gentle squeeze on her hand, and looked up at Estela’s partially moonlit face to see glassy eyes staring at her, dumbfounded. Estela’s lips were slightly parted, and Taylor’s eyes flitted down to them momentarily. She willed herself, harder than she had ever willed herself in the past, to not be distracted.  
  
Estela didn’t say anything and waited for Taylor to continue, finally enrapt by what Taylor was saying.  
  
“I…” Taylor’s voice got low, almost out of bashfulness, “I wouldn’t mind… kissing you again… Estela.”   
  
As Estela’s face became slack, her mind started working in overdrive. She had memories of their kisses, the thoughts that followed, the fear that Taylor wouldn’t reciprocate… and, finally, thoughts of kissing her, now, in the moonlight. She was perpetually swimming with thoughts of Taylor, in every way she had never before thought of anyone else.  
  
The silence that occurred disheartened Taylor. Maybe Estela wasn’t interested? Maybe she should just back off and let Estela be.  
  
“Sorry,” Taylor muttered. She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I shouldn’t have--”  
  
“Taylor,” Estela cut her off with a startling insistency. Taylor looked up to study Estela’s expression and was surprised to see longing.  
  
“Taylor,” Estela repeated, voice still gruff. “I...I... “ she looked down at their hands, held firmly, yet tenderly… a symbol for what was to come. A symbol that simultaneously frightened her, yet exhilarated her.  
  
“I’d like that,” Estela finished. It wasn’t even close to all she wanted to say, but if she were to get something out, she was glad it was that. She looked up and saw Taylor’s face shift from disappointed to a hopeful shock. In the moonlight, Taylor’s eyes shimmered… it was entrancing, and Estela found it difficult to resist. 

Stepping into Estela’s space, Taylor whispered, “Kiss me,” and, with hardly a beat, added a gruff, “please.”

Wordlessly, Estela moved one of her hands to Taylor’s arm to pull her in. With her other hand, still being held, she squeezed hard, and placed Taylor hand on her waist. Estela tugged Taylor forward and captured her lips in a fiery, desperate kiss. Time seemed to melt away, and they both lost themselves in each other. Even though it was only a few days since they had last kissed -- for the first time -- it seemed like they had waited impossibly long, as if it had been years since they physically connected, and their need for each other reflected that… it reflected the impossible amount of time it _hadn’t been _since they’d last connected. For them both to feel withdrawal symptoms, it had to be deeper than just simple attraction.  
  
Both of them parted, panting, eyes lidded with desire, thoughts clouded by daydreams of what continuing could possibly look like on this beach…  
  
“Taylor,” Estela’s voice was raspy. She moved her arms to encircle Taylor’s neck and tugged her in for another kiss. “Taylor, I think I… no. I _know _I want this.”  
  
The plain honesty, however tinged with intensity, made Taylor smile warmly. That was the Estela she knew.  
  
...Wait, was it?  
  
Taylor’s eyes widened at the thought, realizing, once again, that she knew far more than she should. There was a flare of shame; even though she knew she couldn’t control what information she had been privy to in her daydreams, she still felt as if she was invading Estela’s privacy. It felt _wrong_. She knew she had to come clean -- at least tell her as much as she told Diego. _At least tell her _**_something_**_... Otherwise, it feels like I’m tricking her into this..._   
  
But when Taylor’s eyes came back into focus, there was an expression of pain on Estela’s face. That look… a deep sense of unease settled in Taylor’s gut; she just hurt Estela, somehow. And that was something she never wanted to do.  
  
Unfortunately, Taylor didn’t realize the poor timing she just had, that she ended up looking mortified when Estela finally drew forth the courage to say what she wanted. So, when Estela backed up, Taylor stepped forward in alarm.  
  
“Estela, I need to be honest with you,” Taylor said, words blurting out in a jumble. She reached out to touch Estela’s arm. A dark look, a bitterness, flashed onto Estela’s face.  
  
“What? That you don’t actually want this?” Estela spat out, surprisingly emotional. “That you never wanted this to begin with?” Her voice dropped dangerously low. “...That you never actually wanted _me_?”  
  
Taken aback not just by the words, but the fire used to say them, Taylor took a second to process, brows knit in concern.  
  
“_What?! _How c--”  
  
“Save it!” Estela barked and started to leave.

Another moment passed as Taylor watched in shock. One moment, they were kissing, the next… 

_What just happened? Why did she look so hurt? _Panic started to jump-start Taylor into action. _No, I’m not letting some stupid misunderstanding from getting between us!__  
__  
_Taylor jogged forward and yelled, “Hey! Stop!” She waved her arms when she caught up, to get the attention of a girl that was now intentionally ignoring her.  
  
“Estela, I don’t know what that was about, but you’ve gotta let me explain!”  
  
Estela’s gaze remained laser-focused ahead of her, leading them further into the jungle.  
  
“I’ve been trying to figure out some things going on with me lately -- things I can’t explain --**gah**!” Taylor ducked to narrowly avoid a low-hanging tree branch.  
  
“And I get to be the honor of being your little _experiment_?” Estela sneered, not daring look Taylor in the eye. She missed the flash of frustration on Taylor’s face.  
  
“No! You’re not an _experiment_! You’re _far more_ than that!” There was pleading, a desperation. Taylor needed to find something that would make Estela listen.  
  
“I’m touched,” Estela responded, flatly, bitterness ever-present. “You can stop following me now.”  
  
Taylor reached out to hold onto Estela’s shoulder as the ground started to become uneven, but Estela roughly shrugged her off.  
  
“You can’t make it out here, but I can. Alone. And that’s just what I intend to do,” Estela warned. She attempted to make it come out as more of a threat than it was - she still didn’t want any harm to befall Taylor, even if Taylor was lying about using her as a vacation-long experimental bisexual fling. She wanted to be wrong -- oh, did she want to be wrong. But people have only disappointed her, lying to her just for their own gain in the past, so why would that end now? She took out a knife stolen from The Celestial’s kitchen and hacked away at some of the overgrown fauna in her way.  
  
“Este--_whoa_!!” Taylor had to leap out of a particularly wide swing of Estela’s knife. Finding her own fire to replace the panic, Taylor yelled, “Estela! _Listen to me!"_  
  
Not stopping, Estela’s face scrunched up in distaste. “Why?” She asked, and slashed again in front of her. Her own voice raised as her emotions grew, again.  
  
_“Why_ should I listen to you? Give me one good reason!”  
  
Taylor stopped and screamed.  
  
“_Because we’re _**_married_**_,_ _Estela_!”  
  
Her eyes were jammed shut and she was breathing hard, partially from trying to keep up with Estela and partially from running on emotional adrenaline. After a second of only hearing her own breathing, she noticed that it was _all_ she heard. She cautiously opened her eyes to see Estela standing still about ten feet ahead, knife in hand, not facing her.  
  
Taylor gulped, loud. Now she did it. But, well, at least that _did it_; at least Estela listened.  
  
And… technically, what she said wasn’t untrue. _I think._  
  
Estela slowly swiveled around to face Taylor, moonlight hitting her where the canopy above didn’t shield her. Her voice was quiet, but dripping with emotion.  
  
“What… are you _doing_ to me, Taylor?” The question wasn’t about what Taylor said, it wasn’t about the face Taylor made after they kissed… it was about Taylor’s intent.  
  
“What are you…” Estela muttered again, slowly swaying in place.  
  
Taylor noticed through a double-take. “Wha--? Hey!” She called out and sprinted forward to steady Estela, all fury, on both sides, forgotten.

Estela stopped swaying when Taylor placed her arms around her to hold her up. Estela’s eyes fluttered closed, mind cloudy from a large mix of exhaustion, dehydration, and adrenaline throughout the day. She was aware of what Taylor just did, and figured she could grill her on it later, if she heard correctly. 

“Tay...lor,” Estela murmured. With Taylor extremely close, she heard it and gently prompted, “I’m here. Are you holding up okay?”  
  
Wordlessly, Estela reached up and placed her hand on Taylor’s cheek. With effort, she tried to punctuate her words, “Sorry. Talk... later... okay?” Her hand dropped lifelessly, as her weight was almost entirely held up by Taylor.  
  
As gently as possible, she laid Estela down on the jungle floor. Barely a whisper, Taylor heard, “Don’t leave. Please.”  
  
Moving quickly, Taylor maneuvered Estela’s mostly-limp body to slip off the large pack she had been carrying. Putting a hand to Estela’s forehead and finding it slick with sweat, Taylor tutted. _You know better than to overexert yourself… _Not second-guessing how she knew that, Taylor stood up to scout how far into the jungle they had gone -- she had completely lost track when she was wrapped up in panic. Following the moonlight, it was only a minute or so’s walk until hitting the beach, with no worrying ankle-twisting pitfalls to worry about on the way.  
  
_Good. I gotta make it back as soon as I can, _Taylor resolved, jogging back over to where Estela was lain. She crouched down to look at her, already passed out. Taylor couldn’t help but smile softly, a peaceful-looking Estela was one she had often seen in her ‘memories,’ but almost couldn’t believe she’d be able to witness the miracle firsthand.  
  
_If only the circumstances were better…_   
  
Without thinking, she quickly pecked a kiss on her forehead, then squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m getting you back, and you’ll take a nice, _long _rest,” Taylor paused to lay her arms underneath Estela and, lifting from her knees, started carrying Estela bridal-style. 

A few branches snapped under her feet as she walked back towards the shore. A part of her wondered if she’d be able to make the trek back with Estela in one piece without running ahead and asking for help, maybe from someone buff, like Sean. To her surprise, Estela wasn’t that heavy. Though she was certainly small -- definitely one of the shortest and lithest in the group, except for maybe Grace, she definitely had muscle. _But, I guess that’s not enough to suddenly make her impossibly heavy…_

It wasn’t easy - though Estela was light, she was still a human’s worth of weight being carried over a mile’s distance. There were a few breaks that had to be taken along the way, during which, Taylor dug through Estela’s pack to find her water bottle and rehydrate. “Next time, I’m gonna start charging for definitely-patented Taylor Chauffeuring Service™, and that fee is _steep_.” She imagined how Estela would’ve rolled her eyes, but smiled.  
  
She looked down at the sleeping figure strewn across her lap. Estela must’ve really been upset all day if she was willing to overlook her own basic needs to the point of running herself ragged. She probably trained all day out of frustration… _No doubt because of me._   
  
A stab of guilt hit Taylor. _This is my fault this happened, isn’t it? I know she wanted to be alone... but, she needed someone. _  
  
Hair stood up on the back of her neck; she suddenly felt she was being watched. A shiver ran up her spine at the thought. Taylor grabbed onto Estela protectively and whipped her head around to find what was causing that creeping feeling.  
  
…  
  
Nothing.  
  
The anxiety that ran through Taylor ebbed after a minute or so of nothingness; racing thoughts moved her to get up and start moving again. Another few minutes of trudging in the sand without incident let her breathe easy again.  
  
Taylor moved to walk along the edge of the beach and the jungle; the sand slowed her down enough for her to seek out more stable ground, but she hadn’t gone far enough into the jungle to constantly duck and weave through branches. A few more snaps and leaves rustling occurred as she walked, but the noises followed close behind her, making her believe her tromping was the cause.  
  
Just to be safe, she stopped to listen.  
  
… Extraneous rustling occurred but then paused a moment later. _Huh. _A gust of wind had just stopped... _It was just the wind, nothing else._

Taylor exhaled heavily and kept trudging on. She looked down at the unconscious form of her friend. Despite the worry she couldn’t help but feel, there was a small amount of joy at being the one to make sure Estela was taken care of. Her beautiful...  
  
_Wife._  
  
The mix of feelings that thought generated was overwhelming. Seemingly separate identities co-existed within the same space: the Taylor that knew Estela only a week and the Taylor that knew Estela seemingly far longer and not only knew intimate details about her, but loved her fully. As time went on, the lines between both identities blurred together, and she was less and less sure which identity was truly _her_.  
  
She shook her head, trying to push down the confusion of two different worlds’ experiences and feelings warring for control. Time would hopefully make this more clear and easier to explain; she had faith Estela would believe her. She could almost picture the piercing, intense gaze she’d be given. No matter how hard something was to express, no matter how awkward or troubling, Estela always appreciated honesty. Even if she didn’t or couldn’t understand the situation in the moment, she knew Estela would always be able to tell when someone was sincere and listen earnestly to them.  
  
Taylor reflexively tightened her grip on Estela in a subsconscious display of protection as her feelings swelled. Even if she couldn’t parse the depth of them, she still felt them as if she gained them from an organic process of knowing Estela and slowly falling in love with her over the course of a couple years. It was scary; she had never felt so deeply for anyone before, and the intensity of these feelings -- of _love _\-- was a lot to process.  
  
But, no matter how she got them, she had to admit to herself that she felt how she felt, and it only seemed to strengthen and make more sense. Time would make sense of this. It was scary; she felt out of control, falling for someone so fast.  
  
...Though if it was over the course of a few years, it made sense.  
  
_Well, the time incongruence on this island doesn’t make sense, but I’ll deal with that later… _  
  
As she walked, she bent down to murmur near Estela’s ear, “There’s not gonna _be_ a next time where I have to save you, because if you let yourself ignore your needs like this again, you are _not _gonna hear the end of it.” She imagined the mock-fight that would ensue: some dramatic gestures, some over-exaggerated impressions, may a bit of Spanish thrown in for good measure... Taylor smiled sadly.  
  
“I won’t let you do that to yourself,” she nearly whispered. She readjusted Estela in her arms as she walked, dodging a big tree root that ventured into the sand. Taking a moment to stop and look around, she hoisted Estela high enough to plant a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, careful not to wake her, and kept walking. She murmured, more to herself than to her sleeping kind-of-wife, “If you won’t look after yourself, who will?”  
  
Silence cleared her thoughts, and Taylor stopped in her tracks as the realization hit her:  
  
“...I will.”  
  
She swallowed the lump in her throat, suddenly acutely aware of how much like a promise that sounded, but it didn’t phase her enough to stop her. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, and taken care of…” She looked up at the stars, momentarily.  
  
“...and loved.”  
  
As she stepped forward, a loud snap occurred behind her. She froze and looked down...  
  
...No twigs, sticks, or branches…  
  
Before she knew what happened, her body launched into a full-fledged sprint. All she was aware of was the painful presence of her dry throat with the sound of blood pounding in her ears.  
  
...And the sound of rapidly approaching footfalls on the grass.  
  
She felt a heavy pressure as whatever-it-was collided against her, sending her and her “wife” sprawling along the sand. Adrenaline willed Taylor up immediately, and she saw what looked to be the sabertooth--  
  
“NO!”  
  
\--about to bite Estela.  
  
Taylor heard the agony of a choked cry, and briefly saw Estela’s eyes shoot open in a pained panic as the sabertooth sunk its teeth into her. Eyes thoroughly adjusted to the moonlight, Taylor could make out Estela’s eyes darting around as she flailed and tried to push the sabertooth off. Her breathing was hard, laboured, ragged…  
  
And her subsequent coughing sounded wet.  
  
Mind racing, Taylor looked around to find a weapon… wait, Estela’s spear!  
  
_Fuck! Where is it?! _Frenzied, and without any other options, Taylor lurched forward to tackle the sabertooth off of Estela.  
  
It worked! Now, the problem therein was that she tackled a sabertooth, which quickly righted itself and twisted its body to retaliate. Taylor couldn’t dodge in time. One large canine sank deep into her flesh before retracting. She cried out and felt white-hot heat shoot through the arm, from the wound down towards her fingers, like a ripple effect. Her arm then twitched, heavy with a certain kind of sluggishness, but her adrenaline was pumping far too fast for too much pain to register.  
  
The sabertooth let out a vicious snarl, stance predatory. It definitely seemed upset that its dinner was putting up a fight. Taylor had no idea how to fight an extinct beast -- _Why did this thing come back? Didn’t we already deal with this monster?! _\-- and with her weapon options minimal, she acted on pure instinct. She snapped back her unwounded arm and punched the sabertooth in the nose as hard as she could.  
  
To her surprise, the sabertooth reeled back in shock, disoriented. Taylor took the moment of opportunity to leap to her feet, kick sand at the sabertooth, and rush to Estela.  
  
The sight wasn’t pretty.  
  
Taylor felt her legs weaken and her eyes sting. Functioning solely on autopilot, she bent and picked the crumpled body up as delicately, yet quickly, as possible. Not daring to look back, she held onto Estela and sprinted as hard as she could.  
  
She didn’t dare look down.  
  
She didn’t dare look behind her.  
  
She didn’t dare _stop_.  
  
_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! _**_Fuck! FUCK!_**_  
_  
Angry tears spilled indiscriminately as Taylor gasped for air. _Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay--_  
  
Her inner mantra kept her going; she ran faster than she ever had. She had to protect Estela, she had to keep her safe. She felt the arm that got bitten start to shake violently, and Estela’s limp body started to fall.  
  
“_NO!”_   
  
Taylor stumbled; Estela’s lower half dropped to the ground as her arm gave out, and she tripped. Thankfully, she didn’t fall completely, and was still partially holding Estela upright with her other arm. She took this time to shift Estela from being carried bridal-style to being slung over the shoulder of her working arm. The other arm dangled uselessly; a throbbing pressure was starting to emerge, but Taylor couldn’t focus on that -- what if the sabertooth was right behind her?!  
  
She willed her legs to trudge forward again, aiming to get out of the sand and back onto the grass. The only thing she heard was her own hyperventilation and rapid heartbeat in her ears. She started to see light -- the light of The Celestial! _We’re almost safe, ‘Stel, we’re almost there! _**_Please_ **_hold on!_   
  
A sob ripped from her throat as she continued to tear down the border between the jungle and the beach. _Please stay with me,_ tears momentarily blinded her; she frantically blinked them away so she wouldn’t trip over any stray roots.  
  
_I _**_need_ **_you! I need you, ‘Stel, _**_please_**_…_   
  
She was unaware that the sabertooth stopped chased her.  
  
She was unaware of the sharp whistle that rang out, causing the sabertooth to instantly retreat back into the jungle, towards its owner.  
  
She was unaware of Estela feebly holding on, as life drained from her onto Taylor’s body, soaking her clothes.  
  
The only thing that mattered to Taylor was to get Estela back and make sure she survived.  
  
_...Shit, did anyone know first aid? Wasn’t everyone asleep by now? _ Fuck it, she’ll lay on an airhorn siren to wake everyone up! Estela’s well-being mattered more than everyone else’s beauty sleep!  
  
As she ran, a familiar feeling started creeping up: the feeling of being torn apart and thrust in different directions. Sensations started to lose meaning; her body felt lighter than air.  
  
All vision quickly blurred and faded to a brilliant white.


	4. Fractured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taylor's newfound memories cause memory issues.

_A storm buffeted a village; its townsfolk had run to find shelter in a panic. They heard the screech, they knew. _

_The sound was deafening._

_But, somehow…_

_The sight was far worse._  
  


* * *

  
A nightmare shook Taylor awake. She was getting really sick of bolting awake in a cold sweat, but with the frequency of these nightmares increasing… Well, she didn’t want to think about it.

_I can still hear that sea-monster, even in my sleep!_

She slumped back against her pillows and tried to catch her breath. These visions, daydreams, memories -- whatever they were -- were encroaching on debilitating. The physical side-effects kept getting more and more severe as time went on, and Taylor found she couldn’t quite remember what was going on directly before or after one would occur; with the frequency of those occurrences increasing, whole days were likely to become unintelligible blurs.

How could she stop them?

Was anyone else dealing with these?

Worst of all, could they be telegraphing a possible future? There were too many questions and not enough answers.

_None of this makes any sense!_ Taylor rubbed at her eyes before being startled a second time, this time due to the figure laying next to her in bed.

Estela.

Taylor immediately stiffened. Why was Estela here? They didn’t--?

Eyes widening as big as saucers, Taylor suddenly found it a fool’s errand to try calming down. One day, she’ll rein in controlled breathing.

_We didn’t… no. We didn’t-- she didn’t… **did** we?_ Taylor gaped at Estela’s peacefully sleeping form, having forgotten most of what transpired the night before.

No… no, they didn’t do anything. Estela wasn’t really a “pajamas” kind of person… or one that really wore much of anything to bed, yet here she was, still clothed. Taylor heaved a heavy sigh of relief. Wait.

That’s _another_ detail about Estela she shouldn’t know.

Her breath hitched as a familiar flashback re-played in her mind: Estela rejoining her after admiring the night sky, entirely absent of clothes, asking coyly if Taylor was “ready for round two.”

Taylor groaned and tried to physically shake the thought out of her head. _Not the right time to be thinking of that…_ she mentally scolded herself… but stole another look at Estela, anyway. It was so nice to see the girl wound up as tight as a jack-in-the-box have a semblance of peace.

As soon as Taylor found herself smiling at the image, she heard a rustling and was met with a very-awake Estela, shifted to lie on her side, gazing back at her.

“I can tell when you’re staring, you know,” Estela said quietly, referencing what she said the first time they kissed, but without any humour in her voice. It seemed that Estela’s gaze was searching for something, but Taylor didn’t know quite what that was… she just knew that she found herself lost in-between several rapidly interjecting memories of romantic eye-gazing.

Forcefully, she shut them and rubbed her temples. _I wish I could just… shut these off. I don’t want these! I don’t know what these even **are**!_

She blinked a few times, almost as a precaution, as if it would help stave off a memory taking over her mindseye. It was with a grimace that Taylor realized she started to feel like she was losing control inside of her own head… and that scared her.

Telling Estela everything scared her… _She deserves the truth. She needs to know._

Taylor shifted to lie on her side to face Estela properly. She didn’t meet the intent brown eyes studying her. Guilt blossomed in her gut the longer she was under Estela’s gaze; there was so much she needed to tell her. _She already has enough on her plate without me adding my own problems on top._

“I’m sorry,” Taylor whispered. She felt that she was letting Estela down in so many ways. If only she had the courage to come clean! But -- how? It was pure luck that Estela hadn’t laughed in her face when she initially brought up her experiences of daydreams that felt like memories; it was nothing short of a miracle that Estela could empathize. Her thoughts were cut off as Estela whispered, intently, “Don’t.”

Not wanting to trigger another memory, Taylor tried looking at a part of Estela that was sure to be emotionally neutral. Like… her arm, tucked her a pillow.

“Something’s going on with you,” Estela stated. It wasn’t accusatory, it wasn’t disgusted, it was just a simple fact, and one that Estela didn’t want to push.

One or two quick memory-flashbacks about Estela’s favoured sleeping position later -- _looks like her arm **wasn’t** a safe place to look, after all_ \-- Taylor merely nodded, with another light groan. The more she ‘knew,’ the more sick she felt, and the more she felt like her identity was slipping away from her. It was like a person who had lived a completely different life was struggling to burst out of Taylor, but was stuck.

It was unsettling how many intimate details she knew after a week and a half of knowing Estela. Maybe, to some, knowing more about a possible love interest might be considered a positive boon, but Taylor felt it was nothing less than a breach of privacy. As much as she had to admit she was attracted to Estela, she knew Estela deserved to be with someone she could start something with, from the ground-up. This -- whatever _this_ even was, or _could_ be -- didn’t feel organic. Though she couldn’t control it, she felt she was manipulating Estela; that all of her trust was inherently misplaced. That’s what made Taylor feel so damn awful.

_“You can’t speedrun-strat your way into a relationship!”_ she could almost hear Diego say. She knew he was right -- this was doomed from the start, wasn’t it?

“Are you okay, Taylor?” Estela whispered again, more urgently. Taylor really didn’t want to have to tell Estela any of this. How could she? Estela had been so sincere and understanding, on top of everything she was already wrestling with.

Unable to answer without her jaw trembling, Taylor simply stared past Estela, feeling her eyes start to sting.

It just wasn’t fair. She liked Estela; her feelings a bit too deep to still be considered a crush. It all seemed to be there: the spark, the potential, the workings of what could be. Although she found it difficult to admit to herself, she… wanted that possible future. It was tantalizing -- she could experience parts of it vicariously, yet it was always out of her reach. _I don’t want to mess up any chances I have because of coming clean… but doesn’t she hate dishonesty? I have to do it, even if it results in rejection._

It felt like a losing battle; one that was impossible, perhaps one that wasn’t meant to be won.

...As if it was a battle that wasn't meant be fought in the first place.

But didn’t Estela deserve that much, at least? Someone to fight for her? Was Taylor a coward for wanting to back down, to hide from her feelings?

Wouldn’t that be the smarter option? The _safer_ option? After all, what fool steps into battle predicting their defeat?

Warm tears slid down Taylor’s cheeks as the reality continued to hit her, again and again. It was all too overwhelming -- this was just supposed to be a vacation! She didn’t sign up to become some incredibly gay soothsayer... it would be cutthroat to encroach on Diego’s market.

Taylor was shaken from her thoughts when she felt a calloused hand gently brush away the tears on both cheeks.

“Mi hermosa. Please, speak to me,” Estela urged, placing her other hand on Taylor’s arm. She squeezed it once, for support.

Taylor looked Estela in the eye, and more tears automatically threatened to fall. The caring tone, how she _missed_ hearing it, how she _longed_ to hear it some more...

But the person that missed hearing it wasn’t… _her_. These memories weren’t _hers_.

So _why_ was she getting them?!

“Estela,” Taylor reached up to grab the hand that was stroking her cheek. “Estela, I’m sorry.” More tears fell, and Estela caught them.

“Shh, none of that,” Estela tutted, inching closer. “I have a feeling you haven’t actually _done_ anything wrong, am I right?”

Taylor gulped. She had no idea how to answer that question. What if, in whatever past-life that was plaguing her with these memories, she _did_ do something horrible to Estela? And that’s why this was all happening? _All because I… hurt her, in some way. God, I would never forgive myself…_

She choked back a sob. All of this was far too much, too fast, with absolutely zero explanation on how to figure this out, or how to stop it altogether. If she was going to have a life with Estela, didn’t she deserve the joy of experiencing it all for the first time? Didn’t they _both_ deserve to explore that, together?

_Fuck, it’s been… it’s been, like, a **week**. Why am I already thinking about a life with her?_

_…_

_Oh yeah, I’m… “married” to her._

As she cried, Estela had moved closer and wrapped her arms around her. The warmth of being held was a genuine comfort in this scary, unsure situation; if she was going to scare Estela off anyway, shouldn’t she try to enjoy moments like these? Taylor melted into the affectionate embrace.

They stayed like that for a bit. At some point, Estela started a hum a melody to soothe whatever anguish Taylor was going through. Taylor’s tears came and went, and it was some time later before she tried to speak again.

“‘Stel?” Taylor used the nickname “other”-her used, out of “habit.”

“Mm?” Estela hummed back, softly stroking Taylor’s arm with her hand.

“Do you know the phrase… ‘eating for two’?” Estela stopped. Though she didn’t release her grip, Taylor did feel Estela pull away slightly out of shock.

“I… _what_?” Estela asked, incredulous. She paused, having no idea where such a strange thought came from. “Don’t tell me you’re…?” Estela asked, without saying it. No way could Taylor be pregnant. What? _**Could** she be? I don’t know who she’s slept with, that’s not my business, or wh--_

“_No._ No, Estela. I’m not pregnant,” Taylor sighed, and Estela heaved her own sigh of relief, hoping Taylor wouldn’t catch it. Taylor did, and actually smirked.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but the person I’m interested in likely wouldn’t want to try for one, anyway. I mean, we’ve only known each other for, what, a week? Week and a half? A little soon, in my opinion,” Taylor said, her quip dry, yet dripping with irony. She was surprised to notice Estela look away, blushing. Despite herself, Taylor found her smirk turning into a full-fledged smile, and left the comment sitting there for Estela to digest.

Taylor made Estela blush -- not what she wanted to accomplish in this talk, but a bonus. It wasn’t the first time, but it always felt like a rare gift. Maybe, judging by the blush, Estela returned her feelings to some degree. _I hope…_

“That, uh, wasn’t what I wanted to say!” Taylor blurted out, quickly, realizing she had confessed her feelings to someone who probably didn’t want to hear them. Her own face flushed in embarrassment.

Estela didn’t respond, still averting her gaze. She didn’t let go, either.

“Um. Sorry,” Taylor grimaced. Estela merely shook her head, in a gesture Taylor knew meant ‘don’t apologize for expressing your feelings, doofus,’ but kept silent.

Taylor decided to try forging ahead with the… almost impossible-to-broach-nor-understand subject matter. _Now or never._

“Anyway, ‘eating for two’ is the closest analogy I could figure out that might explain what it is I actually feel… what’s actually going on with me,” Taylor explained, resting a hand on Estela’s. Thankfully, Estela didn’t back away or flinch. Instead, she returned her gaze, intently.

“I feel like I’m… ‘thinking for two’... if that makes sense? Okay, no, it _can’t_ make sense, because _none of this_ makes sense,” Taylor gritted her teeth and felt a comforting squeeze in response.

“I told you about those daydreams-that-feel-like-memories; do you remember?” Estela nodded. Taylor swallowed hard, trying to explain without further thinking about its implications.

“They’ve… been getting worse. And more frequent. And they’re all…”

“...about you.”

Estela finished Taylor’s sentence, with a finality that shocked both of them. It spoke to her own experience with this issue… to whatever degree it was. Taylor looked at Estela, flabbergasted.  


They laid in silence as they processed this new information -- it wasn’t a fluke! They weren’t alone! Both felt thankful that the other had been experiencing the same sorts of issues with memories. It was… well, good, bad, and still creepy.

Taylor couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Estela, I’ve seen _so many things_. I don’t know what any of them mean, but I… know more about you than I _should_, given our interactions...” Leaving a gap, Taylor grimaced, again. She knew how awful it sounded. She saw Estela’s face painted with an unreadable expression.

“What… do you know?” Her tone was almost… fearful.

“Well,” Taylor started, dread starting to settle in her stomach. _If I know Estela, tangible proof would be best to start off with._ “I know that you have a scar here--” she reached around and accurately pinpointed a place on Estela’s lower back, “--and, uh… h-here…” Taylor hesitated, blushing hard. _If she’s my goddamn **wife**, why can’t I just… get the courage and do it? It’s not even sexual, it’s…_

Interrupting Taylor’s furious inner monologue, Estela wordlessly pulled Taylor hand down so it covered the area directly underneath her breast.

“Y-yeah. There,” Taylor confirmed, her eyes widened, fixated on Estela. Was she upset by this? Was she upset that Taylor _knew_? Feeling vastly uncomfortable by the lingering air, Taylor continued gushing.

“I don’t--! Listen, I can’t control this, Estela. It just comes to me, randomly, and I wish it wouldn’t! I-I mean, I haven’t earned your trust--!”

Without missing a beat, Estela hummed. “You have.”

Taylor’s eyebrows shot up. She almost commented, but decided to keep going before her courage completely left her and she ran out of steam.

“...I’ve seen things I’m not _supposed_ to see!” At that, Estela looked up, concerned.

“Prophecies?” Estela whispered, seemingly both fascinated and horrified.

“Not… well. Maybe? But… about _us_,” Taylor said, in a way that she quickly realized wasn’t comforting at all. “...Mostly,” she tacked on, quieter.

“What have you seen?” Taylor felt Estela’s tightening grip betray the fear she felt.

“I, uh! Well!” Taylor flushed again and looked away. Taking a second, Estela did the same.

“...O-oh,” she croaked, shifting in place. Both of them were very aware of how close they were -- they had been cuddling for awhile, but it was only then that they both became self-conscious about it.

Exhaling sharply, Taylor blurted out, “I saw us… get married, Estela. Several times.” At this, Estela looked up and froze.

“There’s no good way to say all this, and I’m so sorry this is happening. I just wish I knew how to stop it,” the bitterness returned to Taylor’s voice. “I don’t want to hurt you, Estela. I don’t want to lose you…” Taylor’s voice was quieter, and she bit her lip to distract from feelings starting to overwhelm her once more. She felt her eyes sting, again.

Estela looked at Taylor, but said nothing. She still didn’t pull away from Taylor, but didn’t seem to be quite there, either.

For a minute, only both of their attempts at trying-to-breath-normally were audible.

“You looked… beautiful, ‘Stel,” Taylor choked out in a whisper, the emotion of the memory engulfing her. Trying to bite hard enough to stop herself from sobbing, she accidentally drew blood… and ended up sobbing, anyway.

Absent-mindedly stroking Taylor’s arm, Estela asked, distantly, “H-how often do these… ‘memories’... come to you?”

Taylor sniffled. “They’ve been getting more and more frequent. And intrusive.”

Incredibly grateful to have shifted the topic to something that wasn’t emotionally charged, Estela’s brows furrowed and she asked, “What do you mean ‘intrusive’?”

“I mean,” Taylor huffed and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. A hand absent-mindedly ran through Estela’s hair. Taylor missed the blush that rose on Estela’s face, and the latter was supremely thankful to be spared extra embarrassment.

“It’s sorta like… I feel sicker and sicker the more they happen? They end up taking a physical toll on me -- I get dizzy and feel like I’m about to throw up.”

Estela was studying her with concern. Taylor met her eyes and asked, “D-do you ever feel that way? Have your own ‘memories’ been getting more intense?”

“Yes and no,” Estela frowned, considering how to answer the question. While Taylor hated that Estela could empathize, she felt grateful that, of all possible people, it was _Estela_ that joined her on this journey. _Jake could never…_

The important thing was: she wasn’t alone; Estela had the maturity to give this problem the consideration it needed. She wasn’t afraid to consider every option, and if there was a solution, they were going to find it.

_Together._

“They come out of nowhere sometimes,” Estela started, eyes darting back and forth as she thought of how to best explain her experiences. “I told you before that it feels real… like it already happened. It’s different now; feels like I’m re-living the... thing.” Frustration edged its way into her voice; she didn’t seem too happy with her own explanation.

“Mm?”

“This... is _difficult_,” she huffed, jaw set. “I don’t know if mine are different from yours; I’m not sure how to tell.”

Taylor considered for a moment. Maybe discussing the ways in which their subject matter differed would be more fruitful than trying to draw unintelligible benchmarks in the air. Though intensity and duration were important variables to consider, it would be impossible to correctly gauge them as is. Somehow, she doubted either of them had the wherewithal to prepare a stopwatch, in the event one occurred. _Still…_

“How long do yours last?”

Estela looked up, mid-frustrated gesticulation. “...How am I supposed to know?”

_Well, I tried._

“Hmm, how many a day would you say you get?” Taylor was vaguely aware of sounding like a doctor searching for a diagnosis. It was almost silly to think of these as symptoms of a larger issue.

...But maybe, that’s what they were.

“Once… maybe twice?” Estela answered after a moment. Taylor’s eyebrows piqued.

“A _day_?”

Estela returned Taylor’s shock with a look bordering on suspicion. “Yes. Am I doing it wrong, or what?”

It took a moment for the joke to register. _That’s pretty rare of her, she doesn’t normally find humour in these types of situations._

_...I wonder exactly what kinds of hell the “other”-me went through with her._

“I must be getting upwards of ten, maybe more?”

It was Estela’s turn to gape. “A day?”

Wordlessly, Taylor slowly moved her hand until it was placed gently and deliberately on Estela’s face. She held it there; neither of them moved.

“Yes, dork, ten in _a day_,” Taylor’s voice dropped into an exaggerated voice to make fun of Estela, making fun of her.

In response, Estela snapped her head to the side and “caught” the side of Taylor’s hand in a bite.

“Mhff-_hfm_?”

“No, I ate already.”

“Mmh!”

“Yeah, sometimes.” Taylor couldn’t keep her straight-face anymore -- not that she ever _had_ one, truly -- and broke down in a fit of giggles. Estela bit slightly harder, eyes shining with mischief.

Raising her free hand up in a theatrical gesture, Taylor faked an anguished groan of pain.

“Oh, _doc_’! I think I’m critically wounded -- I’ll never be able to play the piano again!”

Estela released her hand. “Do you even know how to play an instrument?” She asked, half teasing, half curious.

“No,” Taylor deadpanned. “What the hell’s an ‘_instrument_’?”

A second passed, then a big smile spread across Estela’s face. Taylor was so _weird_, but it was a good weird. A type of weird she had never come across before. It was refreshing.

Both unable to look anywhere but the object of their affection, they found themselves moving in tandem: Estela pushed the covers away as she sat up on her knees; Taylor pulled her on top to straddle her waist, then wrapped her arms around Estela’s neck.

Estela, already leaning over Taylor, took a second to breathe; she found it harder to do so when Taylor looked at her like that. Any thoughts of working out their “differences” turned to something else.

Unable to wait any longer, Taylor tugged Estela down into a kiss. The view of Estela on top of her was a sight that made her mind spin, and she hoped Estela wouldn’t mind spinning with her.

Their second kiss had more heat to it, with Taylor deepening the kiss. A shiver ran down Estela’s spine, taken aback by the fire behind it. The feeling of Taylor exploring her mouth with an aggressive tongue was a new, electric sensation. As she felt her mind short-circuit, a whimper stole itself from the back of her throat. Taylor felt Estela tighten her grip on her shoulders and smiled against Estela’s lips, stalling the kiss. That reaction meant victory in their blissful, hard-fought battle with no clear winner. _So, my dreams **were** right… I **can** make her make that noise… _

It was a unique, foreign feeling, letting someone take control, even over something as simple as a kiss. For Estela to feel comfortable in that position, her trust for Taylor had to be solid. Truthfully, it wasn’t _comfort_ she felt - nerves were still ever-present - but it was the most comfortable she could realistically feel with a person, given the circumstances. If she were being honest with herself, Estela could drink in those sensations forever.

Taylor gasped; it was subtle, but enough for Estela to pause when she heard it.

“You saw another?” She murmured, absent-mindedly stroking Taylor’s hair.

Becoming suddenly shy, Taylor grinned, sheepishly. “I! Well, _we_\--!”

Estela was both glad for the break and amused that Taylor’s mood could shift so quickly. Of course, the high influx of those memories had to be intense, but her change from confident to self-conscious was a bit funny. She gave Taylor time to figure out how to speak again -- lord knew she needed it, too. _I… have never been kissed like that, before._

Taylor exhaled, loud and fast. “It was another one. Of us,” her face was burning, partially from their recent activity and partially from the meaning behind the memory. “Our w-wedding ceremony. Again.” She whispered.

Estela visibly jerked back. _Not this, again._ She felt anxiety settle in her gut; she tried to rein in her reaction but knew she failed when she saw Taylor’s face drop.

“What?” She asked, the cold tone instantly dousing Taylor’s heat. Estela felt frustration bubble up as she saw Taylor look away in shame. She hated how it made her feel like the bad guy, but how could she react any kinder to the idea of a ceremony she didn’t want? Not yet, not for _a long time_, anyhow. _Dammit, not this! That type of commitment… how could she think about it?!_

Softening slightly -- it hurt seeing Taylor so wounded --, she instead asked, “Is that what you want?”

“I… maybe?” Taylor nervously twirled her hair around her finger. “I mean, not _now_! God, no.” She forced a laugh, immediately aware of how feeble it sounded. It hurt, why did it hurt?

“Listen,” Estela leaned in and grabbed Taylor’s hands, seeing a moment to turn the mood around. “Those memories? Those versions of ourselves? It’s not _us_, Taylor. It doesn’t _have_ to be us.” She gently shook Taylor to emphasize her words.

“We can write our own future, we don’t even have to get married!” Estela said, with an excitement, a confidence that made Taylor stop and stare. Estela gazed right back, intent on Taylor’s reaction. She wanted to believe that her and Taylor could forge their own path, if they wanted to. If… her mission allowed her to.

_This is beyond our control._ Taylor wanted her to be right, she desperately did. The semblance of hope that she could change her future at will was tempting. Unfortunately, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this situation was beyond them.

“If only that were true,” she whispered, echoing what Estela once told her about fate -- what she was meant for. But, that was before either of them knew that what she was _meant for_ was to be swallowed up in someone else’s lived-in life.

Estela laughed, darkly, having heard Taylor’s reference. “Don’t become cynical like me. It’s not a good look for you.” She started to grin, which weirded Taylor out. _Is she feeling okay?_

“You have your whole life ahead of you. Hell, you could even get married one day.” Taylor saw the glint in Estela’s eye and couldn’t help but smile.

A moment of silent understanding passed between them.

_I… shouldn’t assume. I shouldn’t believe things are the same with her as they are for this “other” Estela._ Taylor quietly, almost bashfully, asked, “Do you… want to get married someday, Estela?”

Estela paused. She knew she wanted to foil these prophecies in any way she could. “No, of course not. Marriage is… idiotic. For fools.”

Taylor frowned. She could tell when Estela’s stubbornness was coming out, and, _oh boy_, did it just come out.

“Are you sure about that?” Taylor asked, searching Estela with an intensity that made the latter feel wildly uncomfortable.

“I… Of _course_ I am.” She tried to sound indignant to hide it, but the hesitation was more than enough of a tell. Estela was a horrible liar. _Maybe her and the “other” Estela aren’t so different, after all._

“You’ve been wanting to get married and start a family since you were young, ‘Stel…” Feeling her stiffen, Taylor quickly continued, “I’m sorry that I know that, but I do. Like I said, I wish I could control this or stop it somehow.” She saw the stunned look in Estela’s eyes and looked away, guiltily.

“You… really care, don’t you?” Estela asked rhetorically, deflating. She knew dishonesty never solved issues; she could sniff out a liar from a mile away. How could she feel good lying about her truth, especially to spare another’s feelings? That was a sure-fire way to get nowhere, fast.

“I _care_. I feel horrible; it’s not fair to you. Knowing all this feels invasive, and you deserve better...” Taylor trailed off.

Since Taylor did seem to know a fair bit of accurate information on her, she couldn’t help but feel worried. Would Taylor abuse this ‘power’? _Perhaps not intentionally, but…_

Estela couldn’t help the anxiety she had, feeling Taylor was living with a blind advantage towards cracking her code. She already believed Taylor had no malicious intent towards her, but the fact remained that she couldn’t help what she knew. What else would she learn, and how would that affect how she saw Estela?

Would it change how she felt?

_I still haven’t told her why I’m here,_ she realized, with a sinking feeling. Subconsciously, she had hoped Taylor had found out already, via memory. _I haven’t told her lots of things._

Doubt draped over them like a veil; neither of them ready to confront what they needed to. Both of them were stuck in their fears that their situation would scare the other away - Taylor about the “other” life she was recalling, Estela about her mission.

The air felt stale. Their previous conversation felt as if it was a long-dead topic, and neither knew how to re-approach it. Enough time had passed in silence that both women had started to feel restless, in their own ways. Estela got up and started pacing.

“What’s this?” She asked, stopping in front of the dresser across the room. In her own internal funk, Taylor only looked up when Estela turned around, holding something in each hand.

“Oh, those? I’m collecting padlocks,” Taylor groaned. Though it was awkward to be in close proximity at the moment, she had already found herself feeling Estela-withdrawal. She looked up to see Estela arch an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, honestly,” She felt too tired to be jokingly-defensive. “I found the first one after the explosion at the hangar. Remember Jake’s plane?”

Estela shot her a look to let her know that, yes, stupid questions _do_ exist. Taylor simply shrugged in response.

“Diego gave me the second the other night.”

Estela frowned. She studied Taylor for another moment, then put both padlocks back down.

“Call ‘em keepsakes, I guess.”

“A collection to write home about,” Estela deadpanned. Taylor grunted noncommittally in response.

Another, thicker cloud of awkwardness hung in the air. Taylor felt increasingly empty as she watched Estela pace. _If she doesn’t want to be here, why is she? Of all people, she knows she can leave…_

Something about it was off. Taylor shifted to face the window, hoping the view of the sea would help provide some tranquility. Neither of them wanted to leave, but neither knew what to say. The frustration was nearly palpable.

From across the room, Estela felt as if she was going to explode. Part of her wanted space, but she had a feeling the island would be throwing more bullshit their way as soon as they left the room. Who knows when the next time would be until they could sit and talk? Besides, leaving didn’t feel… right; there was still more to be said. There were still loose ends to tie up. _Like last night… We’re both level-headed now; I can get answers._

Their morning so far -- their talk, the wedding, the influx of memories, their physical contact --, had worked to become pent-up tension that had nowhere to go, and that tension was subsequently becoming energy that needed to be spent. For once, laying into a punching bag wouldn’t do the trick. She absent-mindedly clenched and unclenched her fists.

Something had to give.

“I have to know.”

Taylor almost didn’t hear Estela; it took her a second to realize that she needed to respond. She turned back just in time to see Estela advancing on her. There was a fire in her eyes; it took Taylor another moment to realize that it wasn’t necessarily anger.

“Did you mean what you said?” The intensity of Estela’s gaze inspired her stomach to flip. Her voice was low. Where was this coming from?

“I--”

“About me. Last night.” Her voice became a bit rough. Taylor’s eyes widened; the tone of Estela’s voice sent a shiver down her spine. _Oh god, what is she--?_

“Wh-What did I--?” Taylor’s question was breathy, almost inaudible. Thankfully, Estela knew what she meant...

...And she was back at the bed, leaning onto it.

“You told me that I… meant something.” Brown eyes bored into Taylor, who then felt herself start to sweat. _What? What is she--? **What**?_

Estela cast her gaze downwards. “Is it true?” She muttered. “I’m not just some… fling?”

Taylor blinked, confusion mounting higher than she thought possible. What was she talking about? _Did I tell her she’s only a fling, or something?_ The thought of trying to establish a status for their relationship made her blush. If only she could remember!

Noticing Estela’s expression, she realized that _something_ must have happened. Estela looked too vulnerable to be making this up. _Plus, she’s an awful liar, so…_

“Did we… talk about dating?” Taylor ventured, cautiously. She wanted to soothe her ‘wife’’s worries, but needed context, first.

Estela looked up, locking eyes with Taylor, searching for something.

“Something… like that.” Estela’s face burned; she remembered she accused Taylor of toying with her feelings, then stomped off. Then…

...She didn’t remember. It was odd, Estela had a pretty sharp memory. What could have happened that was either so big, or so insignificant that she had no recollection?

Did she really lose her cool so easily? The thought was embarrassing, and jumping to conclusions to make Taylor feel bad wasn’t her style. She remembered feeling upset, but did Taylor actually _do something_ wrong?

A flash of recognition appeared on Taylor’s face, she recalled Estela’s outburst and her attempt to run away. It felt so strange, as if she was genuinely remembering one of those “other”-her memories for the first time… but it happened to _her_.

It wasn’t one of her favourite memories; she winced at recalling the distrust Estela showed her. “You… you think you’re… an experiment... to me?” It wasn’t possible for her to keep the pain out of her voice.

The conflict on Estela’s face was plain as day -- she spent her life being on guard for deceit, recognizing behavioral patterns to save herself from unnecessary pain. But, perhaps, that part of her mind was so used to working in overdrive, it was finding connections that didn’t have rational justification. _Like Taylor using me, intending to… throw me away._

“You said I was… “_far more_” than that.” Estela muttered, strain evident in her voice. Taylor felt her heart break at the vulnerable, pained display in front of her. She jumped at the chance to help.

“You are!” She reached out and cupped Estela’s face, making sure their eyes met. “You _are_.”

_Until you find out what I’m here for._ Estela swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away. She had been so good at pushing others away, to protect them. To protect herself. It almost seemed like it had been effortless - avoiding emotional attachment like the plague, no matter how likeable the person. Would the Estela that was about to step foot on the plane approve of who she was becoming? Was she losing her way?

She gazed back in Taylor’s eyes -- earnest, caring, concerned. How long had she secretly hoped someone would look at her like that? What did Taylor have to do to prove her intent; what did Estela have to do to rid herself of her denial that Taylor wasn’t going to hurt her?

“Why do you think you’re not?” Taylor found muscle-memory take over; without thinking, she wrapped her arms around Estela and moved to pull her back on the bed. Estela immediately complied, and climbed up, finding herself in an upright-cuddle. “Why do you think you’re… _’less than’_?”

Estela rested her head on Taylor’s shoulder and let herself be held. She felt pathetic, and fought against inner-shame as she found she… _really liked_ being held. “We kissed. Last night.”

Trying to play along in the ‘Yes, I Absolutely Remember Experiencing This’ game, Taylor did her best to sound calm and collected.

“We… _did_. What happened in your eyes?” She leaned back on one arm and wrapped the other around Estela’s back. _God, this feels nice._

Squeezing Taylor in a tight hug, Estela steeled herself. She wasn’t used to talking about what she felt, or why she felt something. Certainly not to the person she had feelings towards.

“We kissed,” She started, again. “You looked… disgusted.” Estela vainly hoped that explanation would suffice; the shame she felt at being so affected by a simple look was overwhelming. It wasn’t insecurity about her being a bad kisser; after all, Taylor could teach her, if need be. No, that look… it _had_ to be about something deeper.

“Where do I stand with you?”  
  


* * *

  
_“Taylor,” Estela’s voice was raspy. She moved her arms to encircle Taylor’s neck and tugged her in for another kiss. “Taylor, I think I… no. I **know** I want this.”_

_The plain honesty, however tinged with intensity, made Taylor smile warmly. That was the Estela she knew._

_...Wait, was it? _

_Taylor’s eyes widened at the thought, realizing, once again, that she knew far more than she should._  
  


* * *

  
Taylor lost her balance.

She inadvertently pulled Estela down with her as she fell back onto her pillows with an ‘Oof!’. She had been preoccupied with wondering what that kiss was like, mixed with how good Estela’s body felt against hers. Somehow, it triggered the memory… the memory of what Estela was talking about!

Her face burned as Estela pushed herself up. “S-sorry! Got another,” she laughed, nervously.

Shifting to a more serious mood, Taylor reached up and wrapped her arms around Estela’s neck. Voice low and emotional, she urged, “I’m… sorry.”

Estela stiffened. Before she could pull away, Taylor moved her hands to cup Estela’s face. The touch was tender.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” She took a steadying breath. _I can fix this._ The thought was empowering. “I didn’t mean to… but that doesn’t change the fact that you _were_. It was a stupid misunderstanding.”

She felt Estela start to relax. A moment passed while she processed the apology.

“What happened?”

Taylor heaved a sigh of champions. “It was like before: I realized I knew too much - about you. I felt like I was… tricking you, somehow, into kissing me.” She made a face -- nearly identical to the expression Estela was asking about, which made Estela chuckle.

The chuckle turned into a full-blown belly laugh. She collapsed onto Taylor, now fully straddling her. In surprise, Taylor moved her hand to Estela’s back and watched with a bit of concern.

“Are you--?”

“Yes! I’m… good,” Estela laughed. She lifted herself up, hands resting on Taylor’s shoulders, squeezing them once. “It was _that…_ Not… not because of…” The incredulous relief on her face ended up contagious, as Taylor started to grin, herself.

“Estela, I could _never_ think of you as lesser… I could _never_ make that face about _you_...” She chuckled, dryly. “God, _especially_ after kissing you.”

Estela’s laughing was quieted with a small gasp; her face quickly flaring in a blush.

_She’s so **damn** cute when she’s bashful…_ Estela saw Taylor’s eyes shine with…

_No. Was it?_

**_BAM, BAM-BAM_**

“TAY! Are you there?!”

Taylor startled upon Diego unceremoniously bust open her door, panic written on his face. Estela glanced at Diego, unmoving from her rather obvious position of straddling Taylor. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Quiubo, pelota? You understand what privacy is, or what?”

Diego blinked, confused. He shook it off, quickly. “What? I knocked!”

“...You understand what _permission_ is, or what?”

Diego rolled his eyes and groaned. He did not come here to get lectured, especially not by someone who just disparagingly called him “ball.” Getting a few exasperated gestures out of his system seemed to help Diego find resolve to ignore Estela.

“Okay, Tay, _why_ is Estela on top of you?”

Taylor was glad Diego couldn’t see her face, because it was about a hundred shades darker than she wanted it to be; she squirmed underneath Estela, who, perhaps in stubbornness, did not budge.

In a different circumstance, it would be kinda hot. The halfway evil glint in Estela’s eye didn’t help the matter.

Brain properly fizzled out, Taylor responded incorrectly to his question, “Fine! Just fine! How… ‘bout you, D?” A nervous laugh made both Estela and Diego quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Do you want me to deal with him?” Estela hummed in a low voice, leaning in closer to Taylor’s ear, making her shiver. Her body was responding in _all_ sorts of ways that were not appropriate for Diego being in the room. What _was_ it about Estela…?

_Right. Married. Yeah._ Taylor wasn’t sure she could really get used to the idea.

...Would she really have a choice?

The thought made her abruptly sit up; Estela took the cue and leaned back to give her space, eyes studying her intently. _Maybe she wants me to tell him off? Maybe that would help her get--_

_**Wow**, am I bad at focusing. I blame my …'wife.'_

“Y-yeah,” Taylor croaked, reaching a hand up to feel just how hot her cheeks were. _Mount Atropo’s got nothing on me…_ “Thanks, honey,” she murmured, lightly squeezing Estela’s shoulder in affection. She didn’t notice both Estela and Diego look at her in surprise at the casual pet-name; neither objected. Estela’s eyes lingered, wide in consideration, as a She’s using another one for me… Why did it feel so… natural? crossed her mind, again and again.

“D -- she’s right. Just because you _knock_, doesn’t mean you can then _barge_ in without permission. You _know_ that.”

Becoming increasingly self-conscious under what felt like the gaze of his two disappointed mothers, Diego shifted uncomfortably. “I… Sorry. I know, _I know_, you’re right. I should have waited,” he reached up to scratch his neck, averting his gaze.

Taylor almost missed the approving nod Estela gave her, but definitely didn’t miss the small smile. _That’s right, don’t let anyone walk all over you_, Estela would have reassured if she had telepathy. She found Taylor’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I don’t wanna have to start locking my door, so in the future…?” Taylor trailed off, but gestured to Estela and the somehow-domineering presence she managed to maintain while being in a compromising position.

“Yeah-yeah, I got it!” Diego nearly squeaked. The hot blush on his face told them that he had suddenly realized what he had interrupted; mind likely frazzled from what he came up to tell them. He fidgeted in place until a look of shock overcome him.

Embarrassment almost forgotten about, Diego locked eyes with Estela. “Hey, uh… how’d you get back up here so fast?”

In the span of a second, Estela blinked, labelled the question as nonsensical, and threw it in the trash can of her mind. Taylor shifted a bit from underneath her, while staring at Diego. “What…? What do you mean by that?” She asked, intuitively knowing Estela would write it off.

Keeping his eyes trained on Estela, he walked forward, holding something out for Taylor to grab.

“You know, _the sabertooth_? You were _both there._” Estela and Taylor stared at each other, as if silently asking ‘do _you_ know what he’s talking about?’. “Did you somehow _forget_ in the past ten minutes, or something?”

The couple/not-yet-a-couple kept searching the others’ eyes for answers. Without breaking eye contact, Taylor forced a laugh, “Uh, yeah! It’s been a… _crazy_ week! Jog my memory for me?”

"The plane blew up! We got chased by some goddamn _sabertooth tiger_!" 

Taylor and Estela both shared a look. 

"And I found _this_."

She reached out to Diego and felt something cold and heavy drop into her hand.

_A… padlock?_

_**Another** one?_

As she closed her fingers around the cool, dented metal, a flashback took the driver’s seat:  
  


* * *

__  
The sabertooth let out a vicious snarl, stance predatory. It definitely seemed upset that its dinner was putting up a fight. Taylor had no idea how to fight an extinct beast -- Why did this thing come back? Didn’t we already deal with this monster?!_ \-- and with her weapon options minimal, she acted on pure instinct. She snapped back her unwounded arm and punched the sabertooth in the nose as hard as she could._  
  


* * *

  
Ripped from the flashback and the image of the bloodthirsty sabertooth still in her sight, Taylor felt herself sloppily stumble out of bed, from under Estela. Unfortunately, she was too disoriented to know why, or what she was doing. She started to fall.

“Hnngh…”

“Taylor!”  
  


* * *

_  
Not daring to look back, she held onto Estela and sprinted as hard as she could._

_She didn’t dare look down._

_She didn’t dare look behind her._

_She didn’t dare **stop**._

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! **Fuck! FUCK!**  
  


* * *

  
“_Estela…_“

“I’m here.”

“_Please_, be okay…”

Taylor didn’t feel two pairs of arms hold her up. She didn’t feel them shake her nor ask her if she was okay, growing increasingly worried.

Taylor didn’t hear Diego run to get water and a towel, and didn’t feel Estela pick her up and lay her back down on the bed.

She felt as if she was spliced between two worlds; fear being the only common denominator.

Estela had to be safe. She _had_ to be! That’s the only thing that mattered to Taylor.  
  


* * *

_  
Angry tears spilled indiscriminately as Taylor gasped for air. _Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay--

_Her inner mantra kept her going; she ran faster than she ever had. She had to protect Estela, she had to keep her safe._  
  


* * *

  
She tried to thrash about, but found she couldn’t move. This wasn’t right -- she had to get free! Estela has to be okay!

While the fear remained in the forefront of her mind, somewhere in the back laid a confidence that Estela was there with her, hovering protectively over her.

There was also… another presence.

Something -- or some_one_ \-- in red.

They were advancing! Did they want Estela?

“You’re not supposed to be here,” an unfamiliar, older voice rang out. The words echoed, reverberating impossibly long. Where was she? Who was that?  
  


* * *

  
To Estela, Taylor rapidly took a turn for the worse; she had never before seen someone become instantaneously faint. Not much scared Estela -- she liked to think -- but these recurring issues were starting to set her on edge. Why did Taylor collapse? Why is she now incoherent, cold, and sweating? She was perfectly fine not minutes before.

_Does she need water? Heat? Darkness?_

After tucking the shivering heap that was Taylor into her bed, Estela leapt out to draw the blinds and curtains closed. Her uncle used to get migraines and shutting off all light sources seemed to help him, then -- maybe it would help Taylor, too?

Taylor’s friend was starting to get on her nerves, though. Diego seemed a bit… in his own world. What the hell did he mean about the sabertooth or the explosion? Jake’s plane blew up days ago! Was Diego getting sick, too?

_What is it with this goddamn deathtrap?_

And where was he with the towels and water? Where did he _go_?

Not wanting to waste another second, Estela ran over to get them herself. Strangely, Diego was nowhere to be found - he didn’t seem to be in the suite anymore. There was no trace he was even around, save for the padlock on the ground.

_Huh. Was he going to get help? Idiot should have said something!_

She ran back and placed a warm compress on Taylor’s forehead, tapping Taylor’s cheek in an attempt to wake her up.

“You need water. Come on,” she muttered, trying to sound comforting but wincing when she heard the strain.

“Come _on_…”  
  


* * *

  
“This vignette is… fractured,” the figure said. The voice seemed to come from… everywhere, but only this figure, clad in a strange, red spacesuit of sorts, was present. _Where was Estela?_

Taylor tried to speak, but found she could not access her body. It was a different feeling than paralysis; in this case, she didn’t feel as if she _had_ a body to access. Any previous feelings of vertigo and disorientation had disappeared to become abstract concepts.

Somehow, the figure seemed to understand without her being able to talk.

“It should not be so, but our situation is more severe than I had originally thought. Unfortunately, circumstances have changed.”

_What do you mean by that? What does this have to do with me?_

The figure hummed, patiently. “The burden of conduit lies with you, now.”

_Do you only speak in riddles?! Is Estela okay? Answer me!_ Miraculously, she heard a chuckle.

“Our dragon is safe, as long as you give her a place to roost,”

_Okay, fuck you, cryptid red-space-thing. “Dragon?!” Did Estela die?? The sabertooth--!_

“She will remain by your side, if you bring her with.”

If Taylor could, she would’ve screamed. The figure seemed to get the sentiment and laughed in response.

None of this made sense. She had no idea where she was, who this thing was, and why she didn’t seem to be able to access her body. Was she dead?

“You are not dead; you are in-between,” the voice explained, as if it was a concept Taylor understood innately. She didn’t.

Her vision started to become hazy, the view of a looming, yet comforting presence above her returning. _Is that… Estela?_ Feelings of disorientation started to resurface; the previously impassive voice gained a hurried, nervous edge to it.

“Time is unraveling--”

The voice became choppier, as if being interrupted by radio interference. Whatever world this was started to fall away, and the hazy form of Estela started to become clearer and clearer.

“You m-- hurry!” It sounded like the figure in red was almost chasing after her… but she wasn’t moving, was she?

Taylor’s nerves churned as she felt herself solidly reconnect with her body; two worlds of reality fighting for dominance over her senses.

“_You m-- lear--...-- nav--g--... be-- time!_”  
  


* * *

  
As she came to, she could have sworn she heard a distant “too late,” but couldn’t make sense of why. Who was that? Where was she?

She soon realized it was a mistake to open her eyes when a stab of pain hit her. Upon hearing Taylor groan and seeing her wince, Estela moved to block Taylor’s line of sight from the window.

“Are you okay?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice even. Taylor felt a warm hand stroke her cheek and she smiled at the show of affection.

“Yuhreally _do_ care!” Taylor slurred, with a chuckle. A pillow quickly landed on Taylor’s face.

“Don’t joke.”

The warmth from Estela’s adorable protective nature was quickly overshadowed by a harsh wave of vertigo. The nausea the paired with it prompted Taylor to bolt upright, causing the now-lukewarm compress to fall onto her lap. Estela watched in quiet concern, taking the compress and moving it to the side and opted to grab the glass of water from the nightstand.

“Drink,” It was a simple command. Taylor’s head pulsed; she looked from Estela to the glass in confusion. _What…?_

Estela made a nod to the glass, continuing to stare at Taylor, hoping she would snap out of it quickly. Fluttering eyes told her it would be harder than she had hoped.

“God, is _this_ what you meant?” She spoke, nearly a whisper, dropping her gaze. _Has Taylor been dealing with this? By **herself**?_

Taylor stared, bleary-eyed, unsure what she meant. Her breathing was shallow. “Wh...Wha--?”

The confusion wasn’t a good sign. Did she always get lapses in memory after getting one of those? Were they always this severe?

“Taylor,” she spoke, loudly. Taylor winced; maybe if Estela stimulated her senses, she wouldn’t pass out again?

“I need you to stay awake.” She leveled her with a stern gaze, “Can you do that for me?”

A lazy smile spread on Taylor’s face. “Mmyuh. F’you, ‘Stel.” She was able to retain eye contact, at least - that was a bit of improvement.

“Can you sit up?”

A pause. Taylor grunted as she performed the slowest, most agonizing sit-up; Estela wrapped an arm around her shoulders to support her.

Taylor grabbed Estela, eyes wide. “What’re… _How_’m…?” Estela grimaced, glad for a moment that Taylor couldn’t see. _She should not be talking right now, she’s delirious._

“_Time_. How’m I gonna…”

“You’re _going to_ drink, if you can talk.” Estela held up the glass of water, again.  
  


* * *

  
In the bathroom, Taylor stood gripping her sink with enough strength to make her arms shake. It took about a half hour of Estela wrestling with the worst of Taylor’s side-effects before she would help Taylor to the bathroom. _This is the first time she’s left my side all day… She really cares, doesn’t she?_

As Taylor fought off waves of nausea, she thought back on the time on the island; mostly, on the person that had been looking after her with a close eye. She remembered her initial read on Estela; how intimidated, yet intrigued she was. Once, the last thing she wanted to do was to draw the attention of the group’s #1 Badass™, and the last thing she _ever_ thought would transpire from that was… what had been happening.

“Hnngh, dammit…” Taylor’s head throbbed. Thankfully, it seemed like the worst of it was over.

So many questions had been buzzing around in her head. To make matters worse, frustration built over the feeling of forgetting something _very_ important.

Was it irony that Taylor’s memory was worsening because of intrusive memories? Maybe.

Was it, despite being incredibly inconvenient, at least a little funny? Absolutely.

In an effort to help regain visuals on any of the memories she had, she screwed her eyes shut. _Maybe less visual stimuli can help jog my memory?...ies? Ugh. I hate this joke, already._

A flash of red made her gasp. That’s _right_! There was that figure… and it spoke to her! Who _was_ that? Where had she been - was it a physical space, or was it within Taylor’s mind? Was that figure malevolent? Were they the one pulling the strings?

She knew she had to puzzle out some sort of answer. Above all, she needed a direction to go in… some kind of lead.

What could be causing these… daydreams? What sparked meeting that figure in red? There had to be an explanation: Was it just a fever dream? A hallucination? Did she get sick with some bad water somewhere on the island? Heat stroke? Maybe food poisoning or disease-carrying mosquitoes?

_Knock-knock_

“Come in,” Taylor called out. She looked up into the mirror to see Estela enter the bathroom.

“How are you feeling?” Estela asked as she approached, face marred with worry. She tentatively placed a hand on the small of Taylor’s back, then quickly retracted it. Taylor turned to look at Estela.

“Issomethin’ wrong?” she slurred. Estela was glad to see Taylor propping herself up against the sink; that she still had the strength to prop herself up. That was a good sign.

“_You_,” Estela countered, incredulous. How could Taylor ask such a thing? How could she be anything _but_ worried?

Then again, not too long ago, she told herself she couldn’t get attached. Wasn’t it just yesterday when she decided she had to cut this short before they got in too deep?

_Yesterday… _ Estela’s face scrunched in concentration. _Did something happen yesterday?_

Guilt flared on Taylor’s face; she had no idea what she must have looked like during that… episode..., but for Estela to be so wrought with worry? _God, how many more of these things are we gonna have to go through?_

It was exhausting; she felt as if she had ran a marathon, full-tilt. The worst part of it was that she just… couldn’t remember what was happening beforehand. Were they talking about something? How much did she spill?

“Are you able to talk?” With both of them spending some time alone to recover a bit, Estela was hoping for an opportunity to understand the situation better.

“I think so. Why?”

“You…” Estela narrowed her eyes. How to word this without sounding crazy… “You said something… weird.”

Before Taylor could morph her face into something apologetic, Estela held up a hand. “_No_ \-- nothing bad. Just... strange.”

“What’d I say?” Taylor furrowed her brows, trying to remember.

“You mentioned ‘time,’ like you had something you needed to do,” Estela twirled her hand, searching for the right words, “...about it? Somehow?”

“Time…” Taylor muttered a few times, trying to spark something. _Maybe if I start saying something, the rest will come out?_

“_Time._ Right. I had to, um…” She cleared her throat. “I had to _figure out_… what time had to do with…”

A quick flashback appeared, one of her sprinting as fast as she could, holding Estela… who was bleeding out. Something about her arm didn’t work. They were being chased?

“_Estela!!_”

Eyes wide, Taylor started to hyperventilate. Her knuckles turned white as her grip on the sink intensified. Her arms started to tremble violently.

“I’m here,” Estela murmured, nauseous at the thought of witnessing this again, of hearing her scream in terror again. She hesitated a moment, not quite knowing what Taylor needed or if she was halfway lucid.

Taylor started to come out of her flashback when she felt Estela’s body pressed against hers; armed wrapped tightly around her waist. Her come-down wasn’t as severe as the last one, evidenced by her remaining upright. She wavered slightly, but Estela’s solid presence kept her in place.

“Nng… ‘Stel?” Taylor was answered by a firm squeeze.

“Are you with me?” Estela muttered into Taylor’s back. A shaky hand reached up to grip Estela’s arm.

“Always.”

A moment of cautious peace was shared between them. Neither knew what had just happened, and Taylor’s mind was effectively getting wiped with each new memory that cropped up.

“What you said was true. These are severe for you, aren’t they?”

It wasn’t much of a question, but a faint nod was the answer. Shakily, Taylor turned around, causing Estela to loosen her grip. Instead of the grim pallor she was expecting to see, Taylor instead looked shaken. Her gaze was distant.

“I’m… I can’t tell what’s happening. I think I just had the same one for what felt like the second or… third time? You were there, and--” She stumbled through her words, hiccuping.

“I think… you died.”


	5. Incongruencies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taylor and Estela see what they're going to be up against.

_Die? **Me**?_

Feeling herself become numb, Estela blanched. To not outwardly react more severely took everything within her. She knew Taylor wouldn’t lie about something so serious -- a trait for which she was grateful -- but the problem laid in _how_ it _could_ be true.

And, it couldn’t be. It _shouldn’t_ be. How could she **die**, but stand there, very much alive?

The shock started to take over; the numbness resulted in feeling as if her mind had separated from her body. Taylor noticed the horrified expression and slowly approached, as if trying not to startle her further.

As Estela dealt with her shock, Taylor found herself in the throes of her own distress. She wrestled between the desire to help ground Estela and the need to ground herself.

It was as unbelievable as a thought could be, but there was no mistaking the finality of it. Both of them felt the confidence in the statement, as if nothing else could ring true against it.

But, _how_ could it be true? Taylor realized that she had been walking a fine line when it came to these memories and how she regarded them; she had to have some benefit of the doubt - she couldn’t possibly know how or why these were happening, just that she could sniff out the truth in them. At the same time, she couldn’t completely base her decisions off of them without knowing those vitally important ‘how’s and ‘why’s.

Right now, she wanted to collapse onto Estela, hold her tight, and thank the stars above that she was still alive. She wanted to console Estela, while consoling herself that the worst had not happened. Those feelings, mixed with the unanswered questions of their situation, were too overwhelming to properly parse.

Truthfully, it was messing with her head - quite a bit, in fact, especially now that she might have hallucinated a conversation with a possibly-malevolent being in a red spacesuit.

How much longer would she have to toe the line?

When could she finally get some _answers_?

These situations were getting worse; if Estela had actually _died_ in one of them, Taylor had less time to find those answers than she hoped. If lives were on the line, she needed to know _yesterday_.

_I’m not losing her over this bullshit._

She had to look at the objective facts, as she knew them. Currently, that was: Estela was alive. That was huge.

The biggest question on her mind, though, was: did Estela retain damage or scarring from her ‘death’?

Which led to another question: Did Estela ‘die’ in a memory from the “other”-her, or was it a genuine _flashback_? Taylor could not feel a difference between the two.

It was frustrating - the other pieces could not be connected, which mean this puzzle had to go unsolved. The important thing was that Estela was alive and in front of her, and she could at least check her for wounds.

“Could you lift up your shirt?”

That seemed to work at grounding Estela, whose face slowly became red. She stammered as she got used to her brain being forcefully shoved back into her body.

“I--What? …_Excuse me_?”

For a second, Estela thought she was hearing things. Taylor wanted her to undress after telling her that she _died_? _Was… that supposed to ‘put me in the mood’?_ It was not exactly how she pictured that situation going.

Thankfully, Taylor had the decorum to realize how awful that request sounded. She frantically shook her hands as she tried to take it back.

“No, _no_! That’s… _uh_,” Taylor’s face flushed as the connotation of what she said fully sunk in. In context of their unreleased tension, it was one hell of a distracting thought, but she had to shake it off. Above all else, she had to make sure Estela was _okay_.

“I need to see something.”

The sharp look Estela gave her was enough to give her pause. Perhaps she needed to give a bit of context before asking her ‘wife’ to disrobe. But, how much was too much? _I guess nothing could be worse than being told ‘hey, sorry to say, but you died.’ Being asked to prove you... didn’t... isn’t so bad in comparison, right?_

“Okay, not _that!_ God, I’d at least ask you out to dinner, first,” she mumbled. Estela, to her great relief, cracked a smile.

“Would you?” Estela dared to try to regain enough composure to sound coy, but it didn’t work. To Taylor, the failed attempt was incredibly endearing, and she couldn’t help but return the smile. As much as she wanted to focus on the task at hand, she couldn’t shrug off how nice it felt to make Estela smile.

“Would you like to find out?”

At that, any remaining composure Estela had scraped together was immediately discarded. She was all too aware that Taylor was trying to implicate her. Mind fizzling out too much to come up with a witty response, Estela looked away and muttered, “What do you need me to do?”

“Can you take off your jacket?”

Estela raised an eyebrow, but complied.

“I need to… check something,” Taylor said, stepping forward. It was an awkward, tactile request and the right words were elusive. Estela’s eyes widened, her expression mixed with a myriad of emotions.

“Sorry, I know this is weird. It’s nothing sexual, there’s something I just need to _see_...”

Estela narrowed her eyes. Although she trusted Taylor, she couldn’t help the feeling that Taylor wasn’t being completely transparent.

“Hmm, ‘_see_,’ huh?”

“That… sounds bad, doesn’t it?” Taylor winced. _What can I say that will make sense?_ She took a deep breath and started over.

“When you… ‘died’... you were bitten by that damn sabertooth, _here_,” Taylor put one hand on her chest, underneath her clavicle. “...And a canine came out _here_,” She turned around and reached a hand as far as she could to touch a spot in the middle of her back, between her shoulder blades. Estela’s eyes widened and she took a step back.

“What?” She asked, breathless.

“I… remember carrying you, _running_ from that _thing_...” Taylor’s face scrunched up at the memory. “But, I can’t remember what happened after that. I just remember waking up next to you, and you were somehow _fine_...?”

They both needed a moment to digest what Taylor had said, with her full story out in the open. Questions of ‘how?’ swirled around in both of their minds.

“You… saved me,” Estela seemed to ask, but it was more of a declaration. Taylor nodded, intently searching her face for something reassuring. _In this instance, I’ll bet she’s the one that needs to be reassured._

“Well, I _tried_ to, at least,” Taylor trailed off, wincing again as she recalled Estela’s bloodcurdling scream and the abject terror she felt because of it. “I have no idea if the wounds were fatal, or not, and…!” Renewed drive lit up her eyes as they bored into the spot where the sabertooth mercilessly bit.

Estela’s expression softened. She couldn’t remember exactly, but there was a tiny _something_ that spoke to Taylor’s event being true: she remembered **pain**, a deep, sharp, visceral pain, right where Taylor described. She gulped, fearful that the event _really did_ happen.

...Which meant that she really _did_ die.

Shakily, Estela traced her hand over the spot in question. Although the touch itself wasn’t painful, she still flinched. A mostly-unintelligible flashback was triggered: she heard Taylor scream, she heard the snarling and growling of a non-human beast, she heard _herself_ scream...

Within a second, Taylor had a hand on Estela’s shoulder, concern wrought on her face.

“Are you okay?”

Too stunned from the flashback, Estela could only nod. Taylor’s grip strengthened. “You look pale, ‘Stel…”

_It… really did happen. I… died?_

“I…” Estela choked out. She was truly at a loss for words. Taylor was right, she might have _actually died_. Once more, she ran her fingers across the spot on her chest where she was bitten, and another, similar flashback played out in her mind.

“Does it… hurt?” Taylor whispered, as if fearful that speaking any louder would destroy all connections Estela had to her memory.

Estela could only feel how dry her throat was, along with her heart beating painfully out of her chest. Once, during her adolescence, she had awoken during a surgical procedure, but, of course, couldn’t remember such a thing happening. She _knew_ it did, but couldn’t recall it first-hand.

Was _this_ similar to _that_? Was _dying_ similar to...? It was a morbid thought she didn’t want to consider further.

Not yet able to find words, Estela broke her gaze with the memory to lock eyes with Taylor. She grabbed one of Taylor’s hands and bought it to rest upon the area in question. Taylor watched, intent, ready to spring into action at the first sign of a wound.

…

There was nothing there. No raised areas, no lesions, no skin discolouration, no scarring. Nothing.

Taylor found herself deflate. _So it didn’t happen…?_ Guilt flared as soon as she realized she felt _disappointment_ at the absence of a wound. _Why would I **want** her to have a scar? Why would I **want** to be panicking over a gaping wound and a dying Estela?_

_It happened - I **know** it did, which means we should be in a very different scenario, right now…!_

But, they weren’t - shouldn’t she consider herself lucky? Shouldn’t she be grateful? She _was_, but, mostly, she felt frustrated: both of them were steadfast in their belief that Estela was bitten by the sabertooth, but there was no tangible proof, no explanation as to why, or how Estela was alive enough to doubt it.

As long as she was alive, did it matter? Both of them struggled to find an answer to that question while grappling with feeling _disappointed_ that there wasn’t a visual marker. It was as if Estela’s skin had been gaslighting both of them.

Brows furrowed, Taylor leaned back.

“Can I…?” Was all she had to ask; Estela turned so that her back was facing Taylor. With gentle hands, Taylor probed the area of her back where the exit wound would have been. With a frown, Taylor noted that there wasn’t any indication of the sabertooth bite.

“Does this…?”

A fervent shake of the head was all Taylor needed. Repositioning Estela so that the light was illuminating where she needed to see, Taylor only examined the area for a minute longer before giving up.

“I feel… mixed,” Taylor relented, with a sigh. Estela turned back around to face her, then started to put on her jacket. The intent look she got was enough to push Taylor to elaborate.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you’re okay! I’m glad I didn’t wake up to…” Taylor trailed off, grimacing at the mental image. What a horrific start to the day that would’ve been.

“I-I mean, I. Oh, hell. I don’t _know_ what I mean,” she stammered, speaking quicker upon noticing Estela’s quizzical look. “I don’t know if I should be thankful, or angry, o-or--”

“It doesn’t matter.”

When Estela found her voice, she made sure to make it count. Though it was an odd scenario, she was glad Taylor trusted her enough to fully open up about the truth.

A hand reached up to trace the area the sabertooth had punctured -- no extra flashbacks, no pain. Finding nothing provided a much larger sense of relief than Estela would ever fully admit. While they weren’t any closer to finding answers, she was _alive_. If there’s no sign of danger, was it worth it to overthink?

Estela didn’t seem to think so, but Taylor didn’t seem to be on the same page.

“..._What_?”

Estela’s hands fell to the bottom of her jacket, which she then zipped up farther than usual. She only answered Taylor with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean _’it doesn’t matter’_?”

“I’m fine.”

Taylor narrowed her eyes, protectiveness flaring up. She opened her mouth to protest, but Estela was quicker.

“It’s _you_ we should be worried about,” Estela pointed out, desperate to redirect the focus back onto Taylor. Although Taylor wasn’t looking nearly as pale as she was an hour ago, her concern still lingered. What if she fainted again? Estela had the _memory_ of getting bitten by a sabertooth, yes, but there was no physical trace, nor distress present - Taylor, on the other hand still had a probability of fainting again. Wasn’t that more pressing?

Taylor looked raw, vulnerable. Stern, dark eyes slowly softened at the sight.

“If there’s any sense in worrying, it should be over _you_, who _fainted_. Not me.”

“You didn’t faint, but you _did die_!” Taylor cried out, burning at the implication that Estela’s well-being wasn’t a priority. To Taylor, it was non-negotiable. “Are you suggesting the sabertooth thing isn’t a _big deal_? That you’re not worth worrying about? That your safety doesn’t matter?”

Estela’s eyes widened, taken aback by the passionate display. Not used to her worth being _fought for_, she shoved her hands in her pockets, something Taylor came to know as one of her anxious tells.

“...No,” Estela relented, after a pause. “It _is_ serious. It is a big deal. I know - I had one of those…” She gestured while her hand was still in her pocket as she considered the right word to use, “..._flashbacks_... about it.”

Taylor was largely unreadable; while her posture stiffened, her serious gaze dropped into one resembling a mix of sadness and fear. She spoke, quietly.

“You did?”

A nod, then a shrug. Taylor wrapped her in a loving, protective embrace, burying her face in Estela’s shoulder. Estela closed her eyes and leaned into it, savouring the warmth Taylor brought.

“I… I’m sorry, Estela.” The words were muffled, spoken into both a jacket and a mass of hair, but they reached their target and hit home.

This conversation was… a lot. Why was Taylor apologizing? She put her life on the line to save Estela’s - how could she find fault in that? It was something Estela didn’t know how to respond to.

Additionally, ”Estela” was starting to sound strange - she was starting to get used to the petname. What was even more strange was that she _liked_ hearing Taylor use it - anyone else using it would be in for a world of hurt. Only her mother was allowed to call her _’Stel,’_ and she had planned on keeping it that way. She smiled to herself. _Mom… I’m going soft._

The matter at hand was going to be a tough, but necessary case to figure out. She knew that they needed to be on the same page to tackle it, which meant setting ground rules before they went any further. She lightly patted Taylor’s shoulder before pulling away to look her in the eye.

“Listen, we cannot play detective. We do not have the answers, nor a way to find them,” she paused, wanting to give Taylor a moment to agree. She got a non-committal hum in response as glassy eyes searched hers. _Whatever - at least she’s listening._

“This island is dangerous. Snooping where we shouldn’t can get us killed.”

It was a warning, but it wasn’t an outright nix on Nancy Drew-ing it up. Taylor knew Estela had every right to want to lay low, especially with Rourke still on the island. Someone who might just… kill her, anyway. Taylor shuddered, her nausea returning at the recollection of Estela being shot, point-blank. _If I want her on my side, I should try to see her’s._

“I hear you, ‘Stel. I don’t want to go looking for any _more_ trouble than we keep finding ourselves in…”

Estela narrowed her eyes. “_But…?_”

“..._But_... if we aren’t proactive in getting to the bottom of this, it’ll keep happening, and getting _worse._” Taylor felt a small victory in having gotten through to her, evidenced in seeing Estela’s hand retreat back into her pocket.

“You could… _actually_ die, next time,” Taylor strained, reluctant to speak the idea into existence. She looked away. Considering Estela might not be there, one day -- because of _this_ \-- was a thought that was too much to bear. She continued, voice low.

“I don’t know how, but you’re alive. You… you need to stay that way.” Taylor’s voice shook; she silently cursed herself.

The rung on Estela’s ladder of priorities that said “REVENGE” suddenly found a rather large crack.

Time seemed to stand still for Estela. She was used to being told to stay alive, but for the purpose of a mission. Not for… someone else. Never because someone cared whether she lived or died, not from a relationship beyond a strained camaraderie.

Finding herself again stuck between her two internal, ever-warring factions, Estela took a steadying breath. She felt uneasy - once again, Taylor fought directly against everything she thought she knew. Despite one of the inner-factions trying ceaselessly to convince Estela to stay away from Taylor, she couldn’t deny it felt… _good_ to have someone care.

It felt _good_ that it was _Taylor_.

If she walked away from Taylor, she wouldn’t get to experience the feeling of someone truly _caring_ about her and what happens to her.

“Yes,” Estela finally said, with difficulty. Her mind had run itself in circles hard enough for it to end up blank. “It would be… good… to do that--keep that in mind.”

Taylor looked back, studying a clearly-frazzled Estela. She could tell Estela was holding back about… _something_. But, well, didn’t she say something to the effect of ‘_everyone’s got secrets_’ during their first night on the island? Something was definitely going on under the hood, but Taylor didn’t want to pressure her to open up if she wasn’t ready. If Estela was going to tell her, it would be because she _wanted_ to, on her own terms.

“Yeah, it--”

**Knock-knock, knock-knock!**

The sound startled both of them.

“Diego?” Both of them asked, then looked at each other and shrugged. Estela was the one who moved first, hurrying over to open the door. _Finally, he’s back. What took him s--?_

“Taylor? I wa--!...O-oh.”

“..._Quinn_?”

A fairly damp, anxious Quinn stood in the doorway. The somewhat hopeful smile Quinn was sporting quickly faded upon seeing Estela, her stance becoming much more insecure.

“I… Estela?”

Estela opened the door completely, standing firmly in the doorway. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight.

“Yes?”

Quinn took a moment to re-compose herself. Estela’s aura wasn’t quite unlike a bouncer’s, as if she wasn’t intimidating enough. Despite appearing threatening, her gaze wasn’t unkind, just curious.

“I-I. Um. Is… Is Taylor… around?” Quinn stammered, wringing her hands. She _really_ wasn’t expecting Estela to be there, much less for that no-nonsense face to be the one staring back at her. She really needed Taylor’s optimism, but if she wasn’t around…

“Who is it, ‘Stel?”

Taylor appeared behind Estela, peeking around her tiny bodyguard to greet her nervous guest. She saw a fairly flustered, wide-eyed Quinn shifting uncomfortably in place.

“..._’Stel_...?” Quinn parroted, incredulously. Her face flushed. _Were they…?_

“Don’t call me that,” Estela said sharply, glaring. Quinn’s face deepened a few shades of red. _A petname? They’re exclusive?_

Taylor blinked. Questions were buzzing about in her mind: Where was Diego? Why didn’t Estela tell _her_ she didn’t like the petname? Why was Estela so… on the defensive? Why was Quinn here? Why was she drenched? Why did she look so _nervous_?

“U-uh,” Taylor caught herself staring and grimaced. “Sorry, Quinn. Come in - I’ll get you a towel!”

Quinn hesitated, looking between the almost-a-couple/not-quite-a-couple/definitely-not-a-couple. Estela didn’t budge. Taylor leveled her with a _look_; wordlessly and, rather reluctantly, Estela stepped aside. As Quinn entered the room, she noticed the two exchange a few more significant _looks_ before Taylor ran to retrieve a dry towel.

“If I’m interrupting something, I can leave!” Quinn blurted out. She took the towel and dried herself to the best of her ability. She shivered; The Celestial’s air conditioning worked _quite well_.

“You’re fine, you’re fine!”

“Are you… sure?”

Noticing Quinn’s eyes dart between her and Estela, Taylor raised her hands and smiled sheepishly.

“I’m sure. Here - sit down!” Taylor motioned to the bed. She didn’t know how to explain that Quinn _was_ interrupting something… even though she was unsure what to call that ‘something.’ But, well, Quinn looked pretty shaken up, and the other stuff could wait for a few minutes.

Glancing at Estela, still standing stone-faced by the door, Taylor was torn between rolling her eyes and giggling. Between the two of them, Estela clearly felt significantly more annoyed at the interruption. _She would never admit it, but she can be so dramatic, sometimes…_

Tentatively, Quinn started to head across the room, when--

“Ow!”

Taylor’s eyes flew to the ground as Quinn caught herself from tripping on... _Diego’s padlock, that’s right!_

She started to move, but Estela was quicker, rushing over to pick it up after making sure Quinn was okay. Estela turned it over in her hands, looking at it with a renewed awe. Both of them had forgotten about the third padlock when Taylor fainted.

_If we’re doing this, maybe…_ Estela thought to herself. After a moment, she turned her back to the others and started to get to work.

After taking a moment to try to guess what she was doing, Taylor sat down next to Quinn.

“So, uh! Quinn! What can I do you for?”

Estela lost all focus on what she was doing as a “memory” hit her between the eyes:

* * *

_”I wouldn’t mind…” Quinn giggled, leveling Taylor with a flirtatious look. Her face burned while Taylor stared in shock._

_“Wait, wh-what?”_

_“I actually came here to ask if you… wanted to… ohgodIcan’t!”_

_Taylor looked back at Estela with confusion plastered on her face. Reading people was never Taylor’s strong suit. If only she would open her eyes and see Quinn’s intentions…!_

_“Quinn, it’s okay,” Taylor soothed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You can tell me.”_

_“I wanted to know if you… wanted to… go out for uh, lunch? W-with me…!” _

_Everyone in the room looked scared to death, for entirely different reasons._

_Estela was the one who reacted first. “Okay, **back off**, Red.”_

* * *

The trip back to reality was not an easy one; Estela caught herself with a hand on the wall as she almost lost her balance. _Holy shit, what was **that**? Quinn wouldn’t…_ She looked back at Quinn, intently studying her as her vision became clearer.

“Taylor, something happened, something awful! And I just,” Quinn’s words tumbled out of her mouth in a clumsy, rapid mess. “--I just needed someone. I needed _you_.”

A flash of fear ran up Estela’s spine. Time seemed to slow down; she looked to Taylor and saw a mostly-blank, slightly-worried expression. _Taylor… is so damn clueless!_

“You’re just so good with calming people down after something scary…” Quinn started to sway, coming back to reality upon feeling firm hands hold her upright.

Estela swallowed. _I’m imagining things._ She hadn’t thought too seriously about ‘losing’ Taylor to anyone -- that interest seemed pretty damn reciprocated -- but, if it’d be to anyone… it’d be to Quinn.

“Are you okay?” Taylor asked, hands still in-place.

“Y-yeah!” Quinn shook her head, lightly. “Sorry, I-I… I’m still in shock, I guess.”

Turning away from them, Estela shook her head. She knew Taylor could be dense when it came to reading people. In fact, Taylor’s idea of ‘fair’ was that every living organism holding conscious thought would be blindly given the benefit of the doubt until spurned at least five times. Despite that, she would certainly turn down Quinn if she had to. Right?

“Okay, just… let me know if you need something,” Taylor assured, hesitantly taking her hands off of Quinn’s shoulders.

Estela huffed, unhappy with her current train of thought. _...Is this really worth thinking about? Of **course** she would. What am I thinking?_ If she couldn’t trust Taylor, how could she expect Taylor to trust her? She made an attempt to dash any further insecurities before they made any significant neuro-foodholds in her mind.

Properly stabilized, but still shaken, Quinn’s smile faltered. She wrung her already-wrinkled, wet shirt, nervously.

“We couldn’t find you out there -- we looked everywhere! But it was too late, that _thing_ came out of _nowhere_! And--!”

Dread formed in Taylor’s gut. _Did the sabertooth attack her?!_ She held her breath, willing her mind not to become an anxious runaway train.

“Hold on, what _thing_?”

“It… it was horrible!” Quinn choked out, emotions bubbling to the surface and spilling over. “It was some… _enormous_ sea monster! It must’ve been, like, 20 stories high!”

Taylor tried to lock eyes with Estela, but her back was turned. Realizing that her cohort was predisposed, Taylor looked back at Quinn, trying to mask the shock on her face.

“Quinn… I--**what**?!”

Well. Perhaps, in this case, shock was appropriate.

Hiccuping on a sob, Quinn merely nodded. Taylor hugged Quinn, who cried into her shoulder. She had been largely unsuccessful at stopping her mind from racing; though the hug was mostly to comfort Quinn, it was also for herself.

“Sea monster…” Taylor muttered. Was Quinn there the first time it appeared? Everyone else was on the docks, if she remembered correctly - it was just her, Jake, and Sean on the boat… and it appeared _again_?! She glanced at one of her windows and walked over to it, peeking through the blinds partially drawn. The sea was calm; she couldn’t find a hint of anything having happened. Even though the blinds were mostly closed, she would’ve noticed _something_ when the monster re-appeared, surely…?

“Me, Jake, and Sean were on this boat… God, we barely got out of there alive!” Quinn exclaimed, burying her face in her hands.

_Wait, what?!_

“You three... on a boat…?” Taylor’s question was distant, breathy. Did it appear a second time, or...? Either way, Quinn wouldn’t have the answers as to _why_ it appeared, or why she took Taylor’s place on the boat, but maybe she could provide some context.

Quinn nodded. “Jake shot a flare into its stupid, dumb face!”

That made Estela turn around, shock apparent. She didn’t say anything, but watched; her and Taylor exchanged looks that said what they were thinking: ‘_what the hell?_’

“This sea monster… appeared _again_?” Taylor asked, strength returning to her voice as she meandered back to sit next to Quinn. Estela went back to working on… whatever it was she had been working on.

Quinn brushed away the tears streaking down her face and sniffled. When she found her voice, it was hesitant, shaky.

“Wh-what? What do you mean ‘_again_’?”

_Uh-oh._ Taylor was _fairly certain_ Quinn had been witness to the sea monster ‘the first time,’ and _fairly certain_ she wasn’t on the boat then. In this instance, why did Quinn replace her? What did it mean?

“Are you sure you didn’t see… _me_ there?” She pressed on, ignoring Quinn’s counter-question. “...Or Estela? Did you see her?”

Quinn stared in confusion -- Taylor winced, able to tell that Quinn truly had no idea what she was talking about. To make it worse, that line of questioning made it sound like she was skeptical, and Quinn didn’t need that.

Looking between the two, Quinn’s face screwed in concentration as she tried to remember. “I… I don’t know? I don’t _remember_ you being there -- _either_ of you…_Were_ you there? I’m sorry...”

_We weren’t there, either? Shit, I… don’t know what this means._ Taylor frowned, deeply, opening and closing her mouth as she struggled to come up with a response.

“Taylor, is there something going on?” Concern dotted Quinn’s face. She sniffled, her puffy eyes still red from crying. “Did you see the same sea monster a few days ago, or something?”

Taylor froze. She realized she was in a jam and had to turn to her failsafe: deflecting by turning the situation into a joke.

“Psh, of _course_, it helped film our latest horror-docu-series: Just Another Day On La Huerta: When _Isn’t_ Something Horrific Happening?”

Estela snorted.

“Definitely destroyed Michelle’s camera for that one, though. Don’t tell her!”

Estela started laughing in earnest, then coughed in an attempt to hide it. Quinn was just about belly-laughing.

“She’d be so mad!”

“In that case, she’d need to have words with our cameraman. I mean, it’s not _so_ scary,” Taylor raised a hand, pinching her index finger and thumb about a centimeter apart. “If one of us is _this_ big, then--” She raised her other hand as high up as she could reach, “--the sea monster is _only_ about _this_ big. Michelle could handle it!”

Quinn’s eyes widened. “Yes, that’s it!” She said, no longer playing along with the joke. “You _were_ there, then!”

“Hah, yeah! It’s pretty hard to miss, y’know?” Taylor winked, causing Quinn to giggle.

“Oh, _excuse_ me, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

Taylor sighed in relief, hoping it wasn’t too noticeable. She was certain of one thing, at least: something was _definitely_ going on, and it wasn’t just affecting her and Estela.

“Thanks. For being there for me, Taylor,” Quinn smiled, grateful for the emotional support. Bashfully, she looked down. “Taylor, I--”

“Quinn.”

Estela’s voice cut through the air, making both Quinn and Taylor jump. She strode across the room and stopped in front of Quinn, her gaze fixed and intense.

“Uh… hi, Estela! Wha--”

“Have you seen this before?”

Upon asking, Estela thrust one of the padlocks in front of her; Quinn took it cautiously, confusion plastered on her face.

Quinn shook her head after a moment of inspecting it. “I’m sorry, Estela. No, I haven’t. I don’t--”

“What is this about?” Taylor asked Estela, cutting Quinn off. Poor Quinn was getting interrupted left and right, and she was rather surprised that Taylor was starting to do it, too.

A tense silence occurred. Estela wanted Taylor to connect the dots and gave her a look. Taylor wanted to know what the hell was going on and returned the look. Quinn regretted knocking on the door in the first place.

Quinn gazed at Estela, pondering the somewhat domineering stance she had put on, until recognition flashed in her eyes.

“Hey, Estela,” She called out, voice stronger than before. Estela cut off her staring contest with Taylor to address Quinn, eyebrows piqued in interest.

“I never got the chance to tell you, but, well, thank you for saving my life.”

It was Estela’s turn for her eyes to widen. She quickly glanced at Taylor for help, who merely shrugged, just as bewildered.

Estela studied Quinn -- it was difficult for her to turn off the habits she had to learn to protect herself around others, and, thus, found herself naturally wary. Usually, when someone wanted to ‘thank’ her, it was to lower her defenses enough to pull a fast one on her. Yet, like Taylor, Quinn didn’t have a malicious bone in her body.

Those blue eyes shone with concern, and Estela momentarily felt _bad_ for considering the worst of her. She wasn’t used to dealing with genuine people, and her usual confidence faltered when it came to navigating social complexities. It didn’t help that Quinn clearly had a bit of a crush -- one that rivaled her own -- on Taylor…

And it was just like Taylor to be oblivious of that fact.

“Saving… you? I…” Estela looked around, trying to find something to jog her memory. Finding nothing, she asked, “Help me remember?”

Quinn nodded, giving her a look of sympathy. Clearly, their time on the island took its toll on everyone.

“We were in some creepy mine together, then had to swim out of a cave…”

Taylor recoiled enough for Estela to notice. The two traded a few more looks while Quinn focused on retelling what she could remember of the story.

“I got stuck before I could swim to the surface… and I panicked. I don’t remember much else, but when I came to, I was on a beach. _You_ saved me.”

Estela couldn’t let Quinn know she had _no idea_ what she was talking about. Not wanting to lie and risk making up a fanciful tale she’d soon forget, she found herself grateful for her old standby: a stony expression. She was grateful it had enough usage to be able to access on command.

“It was the least I could do.”

Quinn couldn’t help but gush, “I didn’t know you knew CPR -- Jake told me everything!” _Estela’s an old softie at heart… I bet Taylor’s wearing down that tough exterior!_

“_Everything_, huh?” Estela cleared her throat, shooting Taylor a look to signify her discomfort.

Immediately, Taylor stood up and positioned herself to easily drape an arm around Estela’s waist.

“Hate to cut this short, Quinn, but we have a few things we need to… _get back_ to.”

That’s when it dawned on Quinn. _Oh god, they **are** together, aren’t they? And I definitely interrupted them doing… **something**, good going, me. I bet they’re both mad at me, and--_

“...Quinn?”

Deciding that the situation had now exceeded her Awkwardness Threshold, Quinn abruptly stood up.

“You’re right, I-I think it’s best if I go,” She announced, forcing the padlock into Taylor’s hands and heading toward the door without hesitation. Estela took a step back, momentarily impressed at Quinn’s sudden display of assertiveness.

Taylor furrowed her brows, unspeakably confused. _Why did she suddenly look so spooked?_ “I’ll see you, uh, later?”

Quinn was already halfway out the door.

“Sure thing, Taylor.” She attempted to sound cheerful, but was unable to mask a tinge of sadness. She forced a smile as best she could; it was clear _something_ was going on between the two, and Quinn would never stand a chance next to someone as fearless as Estela. _I can’t believe I almost asked Taylor out… when she’s already with someone else!_ Her smile faltered. Without waiting for a response, she left.

As Estela walked over and closed the door, Taylor sank back down on the bed. She looked a bit dazed, face serious as she went over the scene in her head.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Relieved to have Quinn gone, and Taylor to herself, Estela took a cleansing breath. She sat down next to her, doing her best to appear neutral.

“Nothing.”

Taylor glanced over at her not-quite-a-partner, deciding to shrug off her concerns about Quinn’s abrupt mood change. Though she wanted to talk about the incorrect details in Quinn’s story, she also wanted to check in. She could read Estela well enough to notice her guarded behavior. Around _Quinn_, of all people. What could possibly be threatening about Quinn?

But, Estela didn’t really open up to others, did she? When they met, she was just as guarded. Due to the unexplained familiarity between them, though, she was more intrigued about Taylor than the others, with whom she was more disinterested.

“Are... you okay?” Taylor asked, softly. Estela felt a shiver up her spine, just for a second. Was she getting so easy to read, already? Or was Taylor learning how to read minds?

She nodded, averting her gaze.

“‘Stel…”

The compassion in Taylor’s tone made a pit of guilt form in Estela’s gut. Why? Why why _why_?

Something Taylor told her not too long ago rang out in her mind: _”I care about you, Estela. More than… more than I **should**, for someone I’ve only known for a week. I really care about you, and I can’t express that enough...”_

She shook her head to rid herself of the emotional flashback and met Taylor’s gaze. The look in Taylor’s eyes… concern. Of course it was concern. Why would it be anything else?

Quinn’s appearance made her re-evaluate the fixture in her life Taylor was becoming. Something tugged at Estela -- she couldn’t articulate what, but there was a need, a desire for closeness that had never existed before stepping on La Huerta. Not before Taylor. She wanted to be close, she wanted to feel _reassured..._ which disgusted her. _Needing reassurance is weakness. Needing someone will just get me killed..._

Taylor placed her hands on Estela’s and squeezed. Her eyes were pleading, she wanted to _understand_. To Estela, the sentiment was strange -- who ever gave a shit about understanding _her_? It was foreign, but at the same time, she wanted to give into it, somehow. Similar to how she wanted to give in to... every feeling Taylor made her feel. _Dammit._

“Why?” Estela whispered, mind racing. She felt… raw. Taylor squeezed again and waited patiently for Estela to articulate what she was going through. _Why choose me when there are others? Quinn is everything I’m not, why not her? Do you not care what’s going to happen to yourself? Why me when I’m… not going to be here for very long?_ Estela balled her hands into fists.

“Why are you… _choosing_ me?”

Her voice cracked, the emotion in it taking Taylor aback. Pondering for a moment, Taylor smiled. She spoke gently.

“Why do you think?”

Almost immediately, Estela’s head snapped up. Her eyes were blazing.

“Do you really _care_ so much about me? Is that really smart? Not caring what will happen to you if you’re with me? Do you really like me _that much_ to give up so much?”

Of course, Estela hadn’t yet broke the news about her mission. Something as simple as explaining a mission shouldn’t have been so hard, but the content of said mission is what made it seem almost _impossible_. _”Hey, Taylor, I’m just going to go murder, don’t mind me.”_ That would go over swimmingly. Judging from the fact that Taylor was affectionately holding her hand, she likely didn’t get the memo from one of her invasive “memories.”

It always went back to this, like a cycle: Estela has feelings -> Estela has crushing guilt and vows to stay away from Taylor for her own good -> Taylor does Taylor-y things -> Estela has feelings. Repeat, ad nauseum.

Estela was shaken from her inner dilemma with the sound of a light, airy laugh. Confusion took hold.

“‘Stel…” Taylor reached up to brush some of Estela’s hair out of her face. Her fingers lingered near her cheek, which then heated up. _If she needs reassurance, I’ll **give** her reassurance. Whatever it takes._

“Do you need me to show you?”

A lazy smile played across Taylor’s face as she leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching. It took Estela a few moments of gazing in her eyes before she understood. She felt something flip in her lower abdomen.

Her eyes flicked down to Taylor’s lips for a moment before leaning in and claiming them with her own.

Pleasantly surprised that Estela had taken the initiative, Taylor sighed into the kiss. It was soft, it was sweet… neither of which lasted.

Savouring the feeling of her ‘wife’s lips against hers, Taylor wrapped her arms around Estela’s neck and pulled her closer. That was the start of a chain reaction.

Estela responded immediately -- Taylor _wanted_ her, and she needed to feel wanted --, parting Taylor’s lips with her tongue, which elicited a surprised grumble of pleasure. Taylor snaked a hand into Estela’s hair near the base of her head and gripped tightly, which made Estela positively ignite, her kisses becoming heated and sloppy. The pressure felt so _good_; Estela’s breath hitched and she let out a series of whimpers, over and over.

_Note to self: ‘Stel really likes her hair pulled…_

Taylor took advantage of Estela’s momentary blissful daze by climbing on top of her, properly eliminate all gaps between them. With Taylor straddling Estela’s lap, they fell back onto the bed and continued their fervent kissing.

After a minute or so, Taylor pulled away, admiring the sight below her. Estela’s hair was splayed out on the covers, hairband around Taylor’s wrist. Dark eyes held an intense gaze; they were clouded with desire, but also… vulnerable. It was a side to her that Taylor hadn’t fully seen yet, and the thought of getting to experience more of it made her heart soar.

“You are _so_ damn beautiful,” Taylor remarked, throatily. Estela’s eyes widened slightly as her breath caught, this time for a different reason than blind pleasure.

Several intense moments passed between them; both burned with a fire that the intensity of the other’s gaze only stoked.

Maybe, to Taylor, she looked desperate, but she didn’t care; Estela just needed to _feel_. She was still keyed up from a few hours earlier, never quite getting the release she craved.

She needed to feel.

She needed to feel _Taylor_.

Calloused hands wandered up underneath Taylor’s shirt, roaming across her back before roughly pulling her down. Taylor grinned, having no complaints about laying flush against Estela; even through the zipped-up jacket, she could feel how _firm_ she was. The reminder of her strength was steadying, it was stabilizing, it was safe.

Most of all, feeling Estela underneath her just felt **right**.

**Knock-knock**

Both of them tensed, holding their breath. “Quinn?” they whispered to each other, simultaneously. They paused, hoping the person wouldn’t disturb them if the room didn’t show any signs of life.

“I gotta start locking my door,” Taylor whispered. Estela glanced at the padlock on the bed, making Taylor stifle a giggle.

**Knock! Knock!**

“Don’t,” Estela urged, holding her in place. “We have… unfinished business,” she mumbled, smirking. Taylor’s eyes flashed with mischief.

“Oh, we _do_, do we?”

Taylor leaned down for another kiss when the door flew open!

“Hey, Tay--”

Both women froze. It wasn’t so much that they were interrupted -- again -- but _who_ it was that interrupted them.

“Diego?!”

He stopped in his tracks, bewildered at the sight before him. Quickly, he turned around to slam the door, so no passersby could peek in.

“..._Tay_?!” He stepped forward, tentatively, unsure how to read the situation. Taylor, fairly flushed and aware that all eyes were on her, moved off of her ‘wife,’ reluctantly. The realization that their moment was, once again, tarnished by the _same person_ as before, was enough to flare Estela’s temper. She sat up, leaning back on her arms.

“What did I say about knocking?” Estela growled, boring a furious gaze into Diego’s thin frame. He subconsciously took a step back, convinced she would leap off the bed any second. Taylor would save him… right?

“Uh… _nothing_?” Diego’s brows furrowed. Normally, he’d be scared to talk back to someone as terrifying as Estela, but false accusations always got him exasperated. “What the hell? I’ve never even _talked_ to you!”

Estela heard Taylor’s gasp; the latter turned back and they exchanged a glance.

“You _didn’t_ come back with help?” Estela asked, anger starting to defuse. She couldn’t exactly be mad at someone who had no knowledge of what their doppleganger did… if there _were_ two Diegos. Regardless, “this” Diego seemed undeniably different, just like Quinn, which meant that this situation was getting increasingly bizarre.

Diego narrowed his eyes, studying Estela with suspicion. “What the hell is going on? When the hell did _you guys_ start talking?” He gestured between them, erratically.

“Uh… One thing at a time, D,” Taylor started, hands raised in a placating manner. It was clear Diego was losing his cool. “Do you remember coming up here, earlier?”

“Earlier? I don’t think I’ve ever even _been_ in here!”

Taylor hummed, frowning. Diego had seen the room the first night they were on the island - it wouldn’t be like him to _forget_ that, especially if he was _also_ just there a few hours prior. It didn’t make sense. How could they figure out where the discrepancies between them laid without being too obvious? She stole another glance at Estela, whose expression was unreadable.

“D, What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Uh, the last thing I _remember_ is wondering where you were, and why you weren’t at breakfast. Did you know Raj is an _amazing_ cook?”

He missed Estela’s raised eyebrow. She watched Taylor, curious how she was going to handle the situation - not that she’d have to go it _alone_, but she knew Diego pretty well. If anyone was able to get some answers out of him, it would be her. On top of that, she seemed to always know what to say to get others to open up - a gift Estela didn’t have. Not that she’d want it anyway, if given the choice.

“...Yeah, we did,” Taylor responded, flatly. She backed up to sit next to Estela, needing to be in close proximity. A hand snaked protectively around Taylor’s waist, whose heart fluttered at the openness of the gesture.

“You _did_?” Diego nearly yelled, shocked. “Why’d you leave me hangin’?”

Desperately trying to place where Diego’s chain of events differed from theirs’, Taylor could only spare a sheepish smile. “I… thought you knew?”

“I _wish_! I only raced up here ‘cause I didn’t want you to miss it!” Jerky gesticulations coloured his body language. “Now my food’s gonna be cold…” He muttered, clearly morose.

Taylor glanced out of a window, noticing through the blinds that it was past midday. Did… Diego know that? Did it matter, especially if they were in two different times?

Wait.

Time.

_“Time is unraveling.”_

Taylor’s eyes shot open, her recollection drowning out the rest of her senses. Estela noticed something was up by how stiff Taylor had gone. She heard a mutter.

“Unraveling. It’s unraveling. _That’s_...”

Estela saw dazed, yet wild eyes stare at her. _Another memory, hmm?_

“You’d better get to your food before Raj throws it away,” Estela spoke, redirecting Diego’s focus away from Taylor.

“Shoot, you’re right!” Diego looked as if he was able to about-face, but paused to look Estela in the eye. “Before I go, I have to know… _how_ long have you guys known each other…? I don’t remember seeing you at school.”

Putting an arm around Taylor felt like the right thing to do, but didn’t realize how it would look to someone else. She never had to think about such a thing, and it made her blush. _We look like we’re dating, don’t we?_

Not expecting to field questions -- though, if Taylor’s memories were only going to get more intrusive, maybe she should start to -- Estela paused. She knew she was a terrible liar, and Diego would be able to see right through it… and ask more annoying questions.

So, she decided to lean into the truth.

“It… feels like I’ve known her for... a _long_ time,” She said, thinking of a rough estimate to hammer the point home. “Say, upwards of 20 years.”

Diego awarded her honesty with a scrutinizing look. “Uh-huh,” he deadpanned, disbelief plain on his face. “Next you’ll tell me there’s some sea monster waiting to eat everyone.”

“...That’s it!” Taylor exclaimed, coming to. She faced Estela and shook her, excitedly. “_That’s it_!”

Diego paled. “...There _is_ a sea monster… waiting to eat everyone…?” He muttered, too weak to be heard.

Taylor’s grin was magical; Estela couldn’t help but smile fondly. “Mm?” Estela distractedly hummed. Nearly buzzing, Taylor couldn’t hold it back.

“I figured it out, ‘Stel! Well, _part_ of it, at least--”

“Whoa whoa _whoa_! Hold the phone: _”Stel”_?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Diego’s grin was _wide_. “Oh-_ho_! How serious _is_ this, then?” Diego gestured between the two to make it clear what “this” meant. “I didn’t know you were _one of us_, Tay’! Is this your way of coming out?”

Thoroughly snapped out of both her memory and her brief excitement, Taylor turned bright red. God, he didn’t know _this_, either? _Couldn’t he have waited until Estela wasn’t here?!_ She didn’t want to _lie_ to Diego, but didn’t quite know how to avoid implications that her and Estela were _’something’_. But, weren’t they? Would Estela agree that they were?

“It, um. _We_... are…”

“None of your business,” Estela said, forcefully, in an attempt to shut him up. Though she _did_ want to know where they stood -- it _was_ a question she asked that had largely gone unanswered -- she didn’t want Taylor to flounder on the spot trying to find the correct label for it. Diego didn’t need to know, especially if _they_ didn’t even know.

Giving Estela a grateful look, Taylor nodded. Diego knew _something_ was going on between them, which caused the motor on his eyebrows to rev up.

“_Oh-ho_! Well, remember to page me when you get married!”

Estela coughed, trying to will the blush on her face to stop blooming. _I can’t avoid talk of marriage, can I?_

“You don’t _have_ a pager, D,” Taylor joked, realizing it was her turn to deflect Diego’s remarks. Estela’s… _struggle_ at the topic of marriage didn’t escape her, _...no doubt thanks to me._ Taylor stroked Estela’s arm sympathetically.

“You wound me!” He laughed, already feeling much calmer. Estela’s leg started to bounce -- there were a ton of things she’d rather be doing than be trapped in a conversation with Diego. Taylor frowned; she knew they had to kick the boy out.

“Listen, D, you caught us at a… bad time,” Taylor smiled apologetically. Diego gave her a look with a smirk.

“_Clearly_.”

“...So, it’d--”

“You need to go.”

Estela cut off Taylor before she could finish her passive request for space. Diego looked between them - in the extremely brief period of time he ‘knew’ Estela, she seemed like the type to be majorly stoic and unreadable, but here she was, obviously frustrated. He nodded and made his way out.

“You’d better not be hoarding Taylor tonight, there’s a rager planned!” Diego called out, waving his goodbye as he left.

The door clicked.

The two stared at each other, both attempting to wordlessly communicate everything they were feeling, as if Diego were still in the room.

“What did you figure out?” Estela asked, breaking the silence first. She didn’t want to linger on any of the awkward topics Diego brought up as she wanted her face to have _some_ chance of cooling down. Taylor nodded, ever-grateful to have an outlet for her seemingly wayward thoughts. Moreso, she was grateful to be able to tell them to someone who _understood_.

“It’s time. _Time!_ Both Diego and Quinn seem to be experiencing time differently than us.”

Estela nodded, intent.

“Like, the sea monster.” Taylor shuddered at the thought of the killer beast. “It definitely only surfaced once -- if it reappeared while we were in here, we’d be able to see it.” Taylor jerked a thumb towards one of the windows, for emphasis. “Plus, Quinn dealt with the sea monster _instead_ of me, and you saved her… _instead_ of me? I was _definitely_ there both times.”

Another nod. _So, she knows CPR? Good to know._

“And Diego, well… a few things were wrong there, too. First--” Taylor extended a finger for each point she checked off, “--he definitely _did_ see my room when he came up here the first night. Second, he _didn’t know Raj could cook_? What the _hell_?”

“And, he didn’t recall being up here earlier,” Estela finished. Now that Taylor laid out the facts, the strangeness of the situation was clearer to see. Was anyone else besides them, Diego, and Quinn affected by… whatever this was?

Estela hummed.

“What do we do about it?” She asked. Taylor folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. That part she hadn’t gotten to yet. _If only I knew…_ Her face fell.

“I… don’t know. I…”

“Taylor, you don’t have to know everything right now,” Estela soothed. Taylor nodded, unable to shake the guilt she felt. Estela could tell Taylor was beating herself up over not having all the answers, but knew there wasn’t much she could say that would help. When the mind is convinced of something, reason isn’t always going to remove the emotion behind it.

“What matters is the next step we take,” Estela continued, affectionately running her fingers through Taylor’s hair. “What can we do?”

Taylor looked up, staring off into the distance. “We see if we can gather more evidence. Compile them, maybe?”

Wordlessly, Estela picked up the padlock sitting on the bed and planted it back in Taylor’s hands. With an eyebrow raised, she asked, “Like this?”

Confused, Taylor studied Estela’s face, half-expecting her to be joking. Estela huffed and turned the padlock over to its backside, then pointed to something etched into the metal.

“I carved this when Quinn was talking to you,” she stated. Taylor ran her finger over the etching and squinted at it.

“Is that… a Roman numeral?”

Estela nodded. “I carved one into each of the padlocks.” She took out a pocket knife and flicked it open, hoping it sufficed as a demonstration.

Taylor stared at Estela, dumbstruck. _She’s taking this far more seriously than I would’ve thought…_ The fact warmed her heart and a smile began to spread.

The staring made Estela self-conscious, and her face burned. Taylor’s heart warmed ten times faster. _God, she’s adorable._

If Estela was as on-board as she seemed, maybe it would be worth it to bounce some things off of her. A different, non-judgemental perspective could be helpful.

“When I… _earlier_, when I had that _big_ memory...” Taylor started, squinting in concentration. She quickly looked at Estela. “Do you--?”

Estela’s eyes almost rolled behind her head. “You almost gave me a heart attack. _Of course_ I remember.” Taylor nodded, casting her gaze downwards, again.

“I don’t think it was a memory. I think it might’ve been something… new,” Taylor spoke haltingly, still partially unsure if what she was saying was the truth. She didn’t see Estela’s eyebrows pique in shock, but did hear her breath hitch.

“..._New_?” Estela’s voice strained, suddenly rather hoarse. More surprises were not particularly welcome, though she guessed they were unavoidable.

Taylor hummed in affirmation. “I can’t piece together most of it; it’s hazy, like a dream. But…” Brows furrowed as she tried, in vain, to conceptualize what she saw… what she experienced. The hand that had been resting lazily on Taylor’s hip squeezed, reassuringly.

“But, I saw someone… someone I’d never seen before. They said some things,” Taylor explained, eyes screwing shut in pain. It seemed like something was blocking access to the memory, and every attempt to fight past it was met with resistance. And pain.

“They said something. About _time_.” Estela’s eyes widened. She spoke quietly, partially as not to aggravate Taylor’s mounting headache.

“Is that why…?”

“Hmm?” Taylor winced again.

“That’s why you mentioned time…? It was in that…” Estela struggled for a moment. If it wasn’t a memory, what the hell was it? “...vision…?” _Whatever, good enough._

“I-I guess. I don’t remember saying that,” Taylor paused as her head started to pulse. She let out a steadying breath, trying not to focus on it. “...but, if you say it happened, I believe you. As I said, it’s _really_ hazy…”

“It’s fine, Taylor.”

“Anyway, they said something about time being broken. That it was _’unstable’_. And I had to…--_**aagh**..._” Taylor wavered in place, grunting as what felt like glass starting rhythmically stabbing her temple. She was quickly steadied by the strong arm wrapped around her; Estela’s heart rate spiked as she realized she might have to deal with a fainting Taylor, again.

“No, no no…” she whispered, mostly to herself. “We need to figure this out. Come on, stay with me.”

Taylor’s breathing was laboured, rapid. To Estela’s horror, colour started draining out of her face. Pain thundered against Taylor’s skull as she tried again and again to gather any scraps of information she could access.

“I need to --**hhnn**…-- figure ou_uuUT_... wh-what is ha--_agh, **fuck**!_\--... h-happening…**nnggg**\--!”

“Taylor, stop,” Estela urged, straining against the desperation she felt. “Please stop. Whatever this is is hurting you.”

It was happening again, though not as quickly as before. Surely, that meant it wasn’t as bad? It was all Estela could hope for, as Taylor had all but ragdolled in her arms. _Calm. I need to stay calm. I can’t help her if I’m panicking,_ Estela repeated in her mind, serving as a self-soothing mantra.

For a moment, there was nothing - Taylor had gone limp. Estela tightened her grip, fervently studying her for any indication that she was still conscious, or for any physical hints towards what was making her sick. She found none. Taylor’s breathing was shallow, but it had evened out.

Estela had been stiffly cradling her when, moments later, Taylor came to with a groan. The world spun around her as she opened her eyes. A deeper, pained groan rumbled from within.

“You’re okay,” Estela repeated over and over, breathless. She held Taylor tight against her, relief mixing with fear. She felt a weak nod in response, Taylor’s body slumping heavily into her once more.

“Wh…_wha_’?”

Estela tutted, silencing Taylor, then gently laid her back on the bed. She spoke with a tone that was purely protective as she watched Taylor’s colour slowly return.

“Right now, you’re resting.”

* * *

When Taylor recovered, she was overly apologetic. It was bad enough for Estela to say “Do not speak if all you’ll do is apologize for nothing,” which resulted in a pouty, “But making you worry isn’t _nothing_!” which then resulted in Estela pushing Taylor back and ordering her to rest.

It did both of them some good, as they both had some time to think on what had happened: they figured out that something was wrong, and it was affecting their friends in seemingly supernatural ways… not that Estela would admit to the ‘supernatural’ part.

Not only that, but Taylor somehow _talked to_ some ethereal space-human, who told her that time was “royally fucked,” quoth Taylor. Estela was naturally skeptical, but kept it to herself.

And… there might be doubles of themselves running around? Or, at least of Estela and Diego.

It was a productive conversation from a productive day. They were _closer_, they felt, to finding answers.

It was good.

It was _exhausting_.

Despite the mental gymnastics she had to perform, Estela felt renewed, driven with a new purpose. The more she mulled over the facts, the more she realized she owed it to herself to find out what was going on, if for no other reason than to figure out how her mission might be compromised.

Without telling Taylor, of course.

To Taylor’s extreme delight, Estela took charge and made a game plan, with the following rules:

\- Once rested, they were to split up and each tail someone different from the group, noting if anything seems off, then come back to Taylor’s room at the end of the day to corroborate information.  
\- Taylor’s room was to be their safe house.  
\- Any evidence, anything that looked out of place, was to be collected.  
\- They were not, under any circumstances, to explain _why_ they were doing what they were doing. If asked, a vague ‘the island sucks, I dunno’ answer will be used.  
\- If things get dicey, for whatever reason, disengage and come back to the room.

Some time later, charged with the hope of a direction to go in, they left.


	6. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taylor and Estela split up to get answers and end up finding more than they bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tattoo scene and idea inspired by marmolady and her fic “Valentine’s Day” - go read it!

Their elevator ride back down to the ground floor was silent, the air thick with tension. Estela leaned against one of the walls and stared down into the atrium. She crossed her arms, uncharacteristically nervous for what laid ahead - what would they find? What new dangers would they come across? What if they didn’t know how to deal with those new dangers?  
  
The doors opened and they stepped out. The closer they got to The Celestial’s main doors, the more they mentally steeled themselves for the mission ahead.  
  
“Remember the plan,” Estela shot an urgent, but hushed mutter to her partner. Taylor nodded in response, face already in a grimace as she considered what her options were.  
  
_ Who am I going to tail? Who’s the most likely to find something out of place? _ The roster of their group scrolled in her mind, no one seeming more or less likely. _ If the whole island’s screwed up, then would it matter much who I was with? Inconsistencies would follow each of us, wouldn’t they? _  
  
Though it was unspoken, Taylor could tell Estela was also fraught with nerves. Maybe the best way to not attract suspicion was to… not look suspicious.  
  
“Hey, ‘Stel. Maybe, uh, _ don’t _ look like you’re about to dropkick the next person you see,” Taylor half-jokingly warned. She got a glare for her trouble.  
  
Taylor held up her hands as they walked, forcing a nervous smile. “We’re just ‘hanging out with our friends’ right? We should give the impression we’d _ want _ to be there.”  
  
“I don’t know _ how _ to do that, Taylor,” Estela scowled. She might have seemed upset at Taylor for pointing out one of her weaknesses, but she wasn’t; what upset her was that her weakness in socializing could potentially compromise their mission, and she had no idea how to circumvent that. Thankfully, Taylor knew not to take her bad mood to heart.  
  
Before they reached the double doors to the outside, she stopped Estela with a comforting hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Hey,” she cooed, voice low. “You’re gonna do great. We’re gonna bust this case wide open!”  
  
“We are _ not _ playing detective,” Estela snapped, then looked away. “Sorry,” she muttered, guilty.  
  
“I know it’s scary, but…” Taylor brought a hand up to Estela’s cheek, turning her head so they were once again facing each other. “We have each other.”  
  
Steely, dark brown eyes quickly lost their fire. Estela gulped. “Do we?” she strained, unwilling to bind Taylor to a promise she couldn’t keep, but needing to hear that their companionship wasn’t a fluke.  
  
“We do!” Taylor reassured. She knew that the only way to get through to Estela -- to prove that she wasn’t going anywhere -- was to spend time at her side. “We do,” she repeated, softer.  
  
Estela shifted, hands thrust into her jacket pockets. She looked vulnerable. With concern in her eyes, Taylor wrapped her arms around Estela for a hug, surprised when she felt it returned with a desperate strength. Taylor rested her chin on Estela’s shoulder, savouring the moment of intimacy.  
  
_ Am I starting to see a side of her without those walls up? _ If Taylor was finding success in breaking down those walls, she needed to consider how terrifying a process it was for Estela. With her defenses down, she’d be exposing herself once again to being hurt. _ What if that’s not a chance she’s willing to take? _ _  
_  
Though the thought was worrisome, if anything, she took it as a sign to be more explicit about her feelings - a challenge Taylor had no problems taking on. All they had to do was trust in the other; no doubt something Estela would struggle with, having spent her life depending only on herself.  
  
Taylor leaned back, still holding Estela at arm’s length. The doubt on Estela’s face was plain to see. In time, maybe she could learn to trust in Taylor still being there the next day, and the day after that. In time, maybe it would get easier.  
  
Until then, Estela would remain skeptical… but hopeful.  
  
“C’mon, we got friends to snoop on!” Taylor gave her a smile, one that Estela couldn’t help but return. Estela’s anxieties soothed, just a bit. _ How is she able to do that? _ Gathering strength from Taylor, she breathed out. She could do this, she could feign interest in the others. How hard could it be?  
  
“My room; tonight. Don’t forget,” Taylor sing-songed. “Be careful.” She leaned in to plant a kiss on Estela’s cheek. Relishing in the ever-sweet victory of shocking Estela into submission, she winked and dashed out of the resort.  
  
Estela placed a hand on her warm cheek, mouth agape.  
  
_ ... _ ** _How_ ** _ is she able to do that? _  
  


* * *

  
Taylor laughed to herself as she stopped near the beach. The imagine of Estela standing there, eyes wide and mouth agape, was _ definitely _ a keeper.  
  
_ Okay, I can’t allow myself to get distracted, there’s a job to do. _  
  
Eyes swept the horizon, noting a few different clusters of friends dotting the resort: a group of Jake, Raj, and Quinn sat by the volleyball net on the beach, Sean, Craig, Michelle, and Zahra were by the pool’s bar, and Diego sat with Lila, Grace, and Aleister under a giant umbrella by The Celestial.  
  
She idly wondered what Grace would have to say about the… _ problems _ she was dealing with, or the mystery she was trying to solve. Aleister would, no doubt, dismiss it as ‘preposterous’ and call Taylor ‘a plebeian’ -- with full emphasis on the ‘eia’ -- before sending her on her way. Lila might have some cheerful anecdote, but Taylor doubted there’d be much else.  
  
Diego, though… would he recall anything? That would be interesting to explore.  
  
Then again, talking to Quinn would be interesting for the same reason: would _ she _ remember anything? Or would this be a… ‘different’ Quinn?  
  
Or did all of her friends suddenly get amnesia?  
  
_ Can’t rule it out, I guess. _ The grim realization was enough to propel her forward, towards Lila, Diego, Grace, and Aleister.  
  


* * *

  
If Estela had to tag along with a few of the group, it would be best if that group wasn’t too close to Taylor’s. However, a look out The Celestial’s entrance window told her that the _ whole damn group _ was together.  
  
She doubled back through the lobby and into the atrium. There was a back door she had used a few times; she figured it would be smarter for her to scope out inconsistencies without distractions, ie. Taylor, which meant killing time until the clusters dispersed.  
  
With a soft ‘_click_’ from the door, Estela snuck out the back and into the rainforest. If the sabertooth came through…  
  
She tensed. She didn’t bring her spear for good reason: _ she couldn’t find it. _ Otherwise, she would’ve.  
  
A walk through a thinned-out section of rainforest seemed like a good place to kill time and burn off excess energy - with only a pocket-knife handy, she wouldn’t dare venture into the jungle. Maybe one day, to push her survival skills, but not when she was on borrowed time. She had a mission to do, and she wouldn’t let Taylor down.  
  
The sun filtering through the canopies above told her it was, somehow, still morning. _ Taylor was right about time being… off. _ With they time they spent in her room, it should be close to evening. Even Diego’s sense of time would’ve been more accurate than what the sun was telling her.  
  
Spotting a web of fairly low-hanging branches, Estela ran and leapt onto them. To an onlooker, the speed of which she navigated the branches would have been jaw-dropping - it was a feat she considered to be second-nature to her, having lived in a variety of different areas, including coastal cities and rainforested mountain towns. A great deal of her time had been spent exploring what she had access to, before she had dedicated years of her short life towards fighting corruption.  
  
Having scaled her way up to a thick branch about 15 feet off the ground, she decided to take a moment to rest. It felt _ good _ to climb again, she couldn’t remember the last time she did it for fun.  
  
The reminiscent joy she felt popped like a bubble when her vision went white.  
  


* * *

  
_ “Ugh. ‘Stel, doesn’t that… hurt?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Estela smirked at the mild horror on Taylor’s face. While getting her first tattoo wasn’t a pleasant experience, it wasn’t even close to the worst she had been through. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You missed the sign outside? No wimps allowed.” She cackled at the indignant pout Taylor gave her. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Yeah, well, _ ** _this_ ** _ wimp’s mark is gonna be on you. Forever,” Taylor boasted, flicking Estela’s nose. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Can you two do this… _ ** _any_ ** _ other time?” the tattooist gritted out. “Perhaps, a time when I don’t have a needle in your wife’s body?” _  
_  
_ _ “Sorry, Seraxa.” _  
  


* * *

  
Estela startled back to reality with a large gasp. Nausea flooded her senses and the world spun when she opened her eyes. _ Up a tree is… _ ** _not_ ** _ the best time to have these… _ _  
_ _  
_ She leaned against the trunk, grateful for a stable place to wait out her vertigo. Subconsciously, she rubbed at the skin over her heart.  
  
_ Who was that green-skinned woman? _ Thinking back into the memory caused extra pain, but she couldn’t help her curiosity - she had never _ seen _ any kind of green-skinned person, before. More surprising than that, her and Taylor _ knew _ one? Or… might know one in the future?  
  
She groaned as she stopped trying to summon sense from the memory. It wasn’t her’s, anyway - she doesn’t _ have _ a tattoo. _Or_ a wife.  
  
From not too far away, she heard a voice.  
  
Careful not to move, she looked around, scouring what little of the ground she could see. Twigs snapped and leaves rustled; Estela held her breath. The person was muttering to themself as they trekked along the forest floor.  
  
_ Who…? _  
  
As the person walked almost directly underneath her, Estela caught a few of the words.  
  
“...almost feel _ bad _ for the kids…”  
  
She also smelled something pungent.  
  
_ Gas_.  
  
Alarm bells started going off in her head. Remaining nausea mixed with fear. Somehow, she doubted someone would be bringing gas along to start a simple campfire.  
  
Estela wasn’t normally a ‘run and tell the others’ kind of person, but if there was going to be a fire -- one they were largely unprepared to deal with -- the others deserved to know. It was a wet climate, but any sort of fire could be disastrous. If she got back in time, maybe everyone could work together to contain it.  
  
At the same time, she didn’t have _ any _ information; she didn’t even know _ who _ the person was, where they were going, or what they were carrying gas for. If she went back now, she’d be leading everyone on a wild goose chase. In addition, getting back to warn the others before losing the person’s trail was unlikely, and who would believe the crazy, intimidating loner, anyway?  
  
No, she couldn’t risk leaving this person. She had to deal with this on her own.  
  
Once the person was far enough out of earshot, Estela gritted through the last of her nausea and followed quickest route she could find -- that wasn’t a sheer drop -- back to the ground.  
  
She felt for the pocket-knife. While she was more than capable of holding her own, she knew that jumping into a confrontation with a dangerous stranger was foolish. Any person planning on purposefully starting a damaging fire was likely to be unstable, which meant both expecting and preparing for escalation.  
  
The question was: who was she going to be dealing with?  
  


* * *

  
“Hi, Taylor! Come to join us?” Lila greeted with a cheery smile. She patted the bench next to her in invitation.  
  
Taylor smiled at Lila’s sunny disposition and took the seat in-between her and Diego. “For now - what’re you doing?”  
  
“Oh, Aleister here’s teaching Diego Old Maid. Grace and I are playing support, jumping in with pointers every now and then.”  
  
“I gotta say, I’m surprised you’re up and about,” Diego said, distracted. With a face scrunched in concentration, he didn’t dare look away from his cards. “You sure you’re okay, Tay?”  
  
Grace immediately shot a look of concern at Taylor. “What… is Diego talking about?”  
  
Looking between Grace and Taylor, Lila suggested, “Heatstroke?”  
  
Taylor grimaced. While she was somewhat grateful for ‘this’ Diego to be the one that saw her faint, she didn’t exactly want others to know what transpired. “I’m _fine_,” she strained, kicking him under the table. “I didn’t mean to make everyone worry.”  
  
“Trust that you did no such thing,” Aleister spoke evenly. Setting her cards face-down, Grace frowned.  
  
“He doesn’t mean that. If something happened and there’s a way we can help, we want to know.”  
  
“Yes, are you nursing a nasty hangover from your party, _O Mighty Hero_? I’d advise bedrest,” Aleister mocked with a sneer.  
  
Taylor took a deep breath. _This isn’t going well._ Jabs from Aleister weren’t going to get her any closer to finding clues.  
  
Diego looked over and studied Taylor. “Actually, resting is what I thought you were doing. What made you come down?”  
  
“Uhh.” Taylor’s eyes widened. “I was looking… for _you_, obviously. We thought you had gone to get…” _Probably shouldn’t say ‘help.’ _To her relief, Diego filled in the blank._  
_  
“Michelle? I mean, I _did_, at first, but she just told me to let you rest. I figured Estela would take plenty care of you.” For once, Diego didn’t intend on any innuendo. Or, if he did, he kept his eyebrows to himself.  
  
The other three looked up in shock.  
  
“_Estela?_” they asked in tandem.  
  
“Diego, _what happened_?” Grace’s concern shot up judging from the urgency in her voice. Was it at the mention of Estela?  
  
“Uhhhh,” Diego grimaced, shooting Taylor a look of ‘_help me oh god what do I say_,’ which succeeded in making Grace _more_ concerned.  
  
“_Nothing_ happened, Grace.”  
  
“Estela? Took care of you? Isn’t she…” Grace started, then lowered her voice to a hush, “_kind of scary_?”  
  
_I should’ve expected this._ Taylor closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had a feeling she’d have a lot of explaining about Estela to do in the near-future. “You know, some might argue the same about Aleister,” Taylor said, nodding across the table.  
  
Grace’s brows shot up and she looked at him, as if considering him for the first time. Aleister chuckled, looking rather smug.  
  
“If anyone here had any sense, they would think so.”  
  
The others stared at him, weirded out by his desire to be ostracized. _I have a feeling ‘Stel would say something similar about herself.__  
__  
_Lila, however, seemed happy to dissent. “Nonsense. You are all lovely students and Estela is no exception. We shouldn’t judge how she chooses to express herself.”  
  
Everyone stared at Lila, who wore an unflinchingly cheery grin. Thankful for someone else sticking up for Estela, for once, Taylor gave Lila a smile. _Y’know, Lila’s alright._  
  
“I should, uh, go and find her. Soon, actually,” Taylor said, getting up from the wooden bench.  
  
“Oh-_ho_, going back to your woman? _Don’t keep her waiting._”  
  
“Diego. Just... shut up.”  
  


* * *

  
Estela had been tailing the mystery person at a distance for awhile, careful not to make any discernible noise. Thankfully, she had some experience in tracking; her stealth was reminiscent of a jaguar stalking its prey.  
  
Except, she didn’t plan on killing this person, just disarming them.  
  
The rainforest was just dense enough to shield Estela’s target from view. It was strange; this person had been muttering to themself for nearly the entire walk; most of it, from what Estela could gather, seemed to either be about the group or about pepping themself up for what they were about to do.  
  
To say the least, it was unsettling. Who had the group allowed to get so close to them? Was it someone _ from _ the group? When Estela had to take someone out, it wasn’t normally a person she had the chance to get close to - she could remain emotionally detached and carry out the task without feelings getting in the way.  
  
But this, clearly, was not the case. The thought that someone could slip by her threat-detection scared her. She tried to wrack her brain for hints on who the culprit could be, but could only draw blanks. It wasn’t as if she had dossiers on everyone; she wasn’t _ Rourke_.  
  
The rainforest thinned out; Estela needed to stay where she had cover. At least now she could see the other person.  
  
...  
  
** _Lila_**_?! _  
  


* * *

  
“Nice to see you out ‘n’ about, Princess.”  
  
Taylor made her way over to the volleyball nets on the beach, earning waves from Jake, Quinn, and Raj.  
  
“Good to see you, too, Slacker,” Taylor laughed, purposefully positioning herself next to Quinn. If Diego had ‘reverted’ back to the ‘original’ Diego, would the same be true for Quinn?  
  
Jake gave her a look, opening his mouth to seemingly protest, but closed it again. After a moment, he tried again.  
  
“New nickname. Nice.”  
  
Anything Taylor was going to say in response was cut off by Craig, whose voice seemed to boom over the length of the property as he approached, “Hey-yo, Quinn! Meech wants to talk to ya!”  
  
Almost immediately, Quinn jumped to her feet, eyes wide. Was that a blush?  
  
“Uh! Well, talk to you guys later!”  
  
She just about high-tailed it towards the pool bar, causing Raj to lean back into a belly-laugh.  
  
“Ah, to be in love,” he said, gazing wistfully in the direction of Quinn and Michelle. Jake sat up, brows raised in intrigue.  
  
“You think so?”  
  
Raj hummed in response, a lazy smile on his face. Jake sat back, considering it for a moment; the idea took him off-guard.  
  
“...Huh.”  
  
“Ayy dudes,” Craig greeted, taking Quinn’s seat. “...And dudette,” he appended, clapping Taylor’s back in a show of affection.  
  
“Oof! Hey, Craig,” Taylor grunted, not expecting his show of affection to _ hurt_. She winced as her skin smarted.  
  
“How’s two-thirds of our Hero Brigade doin’?”  
  
Jake and Taylor shared a look, both of them echoing the same sentiment of ‘ _ ...oh yeah, that’s us, isn’t it? _ ’  
  
“Besides all the near-death experiences? Can’t complain,” Jake remarked, sly grin in tow.  
  
Craig visibly shuddered. “You’re tellin’ me! I _ still _ have nightmares about that Loch Ness creep!”  
  
That gave Taylor an idea. “Craig, do you remember seeing Quinn on the docks when that thing almost ate us?”  
  
He gave her a strange look, then took a second to consider her words. “Hmm,” Craig screwed his face in concentration.  
  
“Don’t hurt yourself, Muscles,” Jake muttered, low enough for Craig to miss.  
  
Raj heard and gave Jake a frown.  
  
‘_Be nice_,’ he mouthed. Jake shrugged.  
  
“Guess so - I mean, she wasn’t on the boat with you guys, _ that’s _ for sure!” Craig let out a huge laugh. The thought of Quinn being up-front in the action was so absurd to him. “Can you imagine if Quinn was on the boat, though? I mean, what next, she gets possessed and flies around shooting lasers?” He then fell back, immersed in his guffaws.  
  
Raj considered it for a moment. “I bet if Quinn _ did _ get possessed, she’d still be shaped like a friend,” he nodded, pleased with his optimistic conclusion.  
  
Taylor couldn’t help but smile. _ Damn, I love Raj. _ “You know, you should really talk to Estela; you’d make such good friends.” She wasn’t entirely sure how that would turn out, but she had a feeling they’d see each others’ true potential and learn to trust each other surprisingly fast.  
  
It was Jake’s turn to bark out a hearty laugh.  
  
“_Katniss? _ You mean the girl whose name you screamed out the other night?”  
  
_ I should’ve expected this. _ Taylor held her expression tight, not wanting to give the class clown an inch. He studied her, a grin slowly spreading wide.  
  
“Oh boy. _ Oh boyyyy_,” he choked out, in-between laughs. “That was _ real_, wasn’t it? _ Somethin’s _ going on between you, isn’t there?”  
  
Taylor narrowed her eyes, keeping her expression stiff. Raj held a hand up in front of Taylor.  
  
“Hey now, hold up,” he said, shutting Jake up. Turning to Taylor, he offered a gentle smile. “She sounds great. Honestly, I’d always wanted to be her friend…” he trailed off, another wistful expression on his face. He snapped out of it, looking at Taylor intently, excitement twinkling in his eyes. “D’ya think she’d go for it?”  
  
** _Damn_**_, I love Raj. _ She couldn’t help sharing his infectious smile.  
  
The world faded, quick and violent. Taylor couldn’t feel herself duck forward, nor Craig grabbing her before she almost hitting the pavement. She felt as she did once before: as if the world was swallowing her whole.  
  
A voice, foreign and desperate, edged into her consciousness, speaking words that were frequently cut off as if interrupted by a poor connection:  
  
_ “--there? This--... Dra--...I repea--... th--... fly… Ple--...--ond… --ou there…? O--” _  
  
The message only lingered for a few seconds, disappearing and leaving way for nothingness to take over.  
  
Soon, the nothingness started to fade, gradually being replaced by a faint, painful pulsing that increased in intensity.  
  
When Taylor awoke, it felt as if she had just wrestled ten bears and lost with each one. She was vaguely aware of Craig holding her upright, and Raj’s hand on her forehead. They were saying _ something _ , but she couldn’t understand them; it was as if they were underwater. Or _ she _ was underwater? She couldn’t tell.  
  
“Ughhh,” Taylor groaned pitifully. Her mind felt like it was filled to the brim with cotton, while her stomach felt as if it was on a never-ending rollercoaster ride from hell.  
  
Taylor knew better than to tempt fate by opening her eyes - _ anything _ was better than that awful rush of vertigo. Instead, she focused on her other senses. The sound of the waves was what she chose to ground herself with as she came back.  
  
“Fuckin’ hell,” she heard Jake mutter. He seemed close. At least he didn’t sound like he was underwater anymore.  
  
“Whoa, is this what happens _ every time _ you talk about Estela?” Craig asked. “Maybe she’s got you under some sorta spell.”  
  
As soon as Craig released her, she doubled-over onto the lawn chair, groaning and cursing under her breath. She opened her eyes, grateful that the vertigo wasn’t as bad as she dreaded.  
  
“Might wanna consider _ quitting _ that addiction, Princess.” Jake’s dark joke earned him a high-five from Craig. He settled back onto his chair and took a swig of his beer.  
  
Raj waved his hand to cut them off, then turned back to Taylor. “You okay?” he asked, worry evident. Taylor nodded, focusing on breathing and the sound of the waves behind her.  
  
“Dude, Raj-man - if Taylor gets like _ this _ every time she talks about Estela, _ why _ would you wanna chance being friends with her?” Craig cracked up, slapping his leg. “I mean, really! You wanna be like _ that _ all day?” He pointed at Taylor.  
  
With another groan, Taylor righted herself. The world had mostly calmed down and her insides had seemed to agree on staying in one place. She shot Craig a weak glare as Raj shrugged.  
  
“Why not? We know Taylor’s just sick - Michelle told us as much, remember?” Raj soothed, doing his best to calm down any errant worries about his friends. “Estela has nothing to do with it, dude.”  
  
“Bruh, _ really_?” Craig wheezed, slapping his thighs. “She’d chew you up and spit you right back out!” he exclaimed, standing up in his excitement. Taylor thought they would’ve stopped taking pot-shots at Estela, upset that they showed no signs of stopping.  
  
“Have you ever _ tried _ talking to her?” Taylor challenged, rising to take the bait. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t sit idly by and let others spread harmful ideas about Estela being dangerous. _They really think she’ll just up and shank them in their sleep, don’t they? _ It was frustrating; if her and Estela couldn’t solve the time anomalies going on, they would _ need _ to ask everyone for help. How could that work if they didn’t trust Estela?  
  
Jake and Craig took a second to stare at Taylor, both holding in their laughs with puffed cheeks.  
  
“Lemme guess, Princess: you see a _ different side _ of her?” Jake teased, cracking up. Taylor bristled. What was upsetting wasn’t that it was an untrue statement, it was that he thought being able to see that other side was an impossible goal. That Estela was ultimately, intrinsically unloveable.  
  
Craig scream-laughed, slapping his leg. “Damn, T - goin’ for the _ warrior queen_, ehh? Must’ve hit your head harder than we thought!”  
  
She liked to think she didn’t anger easily, but she had a line.  
  
“Alright, no, fuck this. Estela _ saved your lives_. She’s not some selfish, uncaring monster that’s going to kill you when you’re not looking,” Taylor gritted out. Controlled breathing… she needed to focus on that if she wanted to stay calm.  
  
“_Wow_, she really _ did _ put you under her spell.” Jake smirked, feigning concern. “Tsk, tsk.”  
  
“Stop!” Raj barked, causing both Jake and Craig to stop laughing. “You guys are better than this. I can’t listen to you trash one of our family,” Raj stood up, a look of paternal disappointment aimed at the two. “Taylor, wanna bounce?” He held out a hand.  
  
Taylor glanced up at Raj. His tender, apologetic smile felt like a welcome shield against the cruel jokes. She took his hand and got up, wanting desperately to have the last word, but decided against it. She had a mission, and at the heart of that mission was _ Estela_. They had to get to the bottom of these goings-on so Estela would be safe…  
  
“‘Ey, ‘s whacha get for havin’ a sense of humour ‘round here,” she heard Jake joke to Craig, who laughed, playing a loyal yes-man.  
  
Raj put a hand on Taylor’s shoulder as they walked away, face wrought with concern.  
  
“Sorry ‘bout them, Taylor. I’m sure they don’t mean it,” he soothed.  
  
Taylor winced. She liked having the perception that she was level-headed; losing her cool because of her friends trashing Estela wasn’t her idea of a great time. Though, if she had the choice, she’d defend Estela again and again. _ I’ll fight all of them, I don’t care. _ Estela was doing her best, and hell, _ saved _ everyone in a truly kickass fashion. How could everyone still be so blind?  
  
“How’re you holding up, friend?” Raj, once again, attempted to soothe. He could tell Taylor shut down a bit, which wasn’t like her. He knew that kindness was the remedy -- as it always was -- to calming an angry heart.  
  
She looked at him, grateful to see the sincerity on his face. It was sometimes easy to forget how _ genuine _ Raj was. It was like a breath of fresh air; she cracked a small smile.  
  
“Better,” she answered, earning a hum in response. He waited for her to open up as they walked.  
  
“It’s frustrating, Raj. If the island is gonna keep throwing danger at us, shouldn’t we be banding together? Why target _ Estela_?”  
  
Raj nodded, frowning. He knew Taylor was a good person, also able to see the potential in their emotionally-stunted group. She was right: it _ was _ frustrating.  
  
“Not everyone’s able to see past tough exteriors,” he explained, sadness tinting his voice. “I trust your judgement, Taylor -- everyone here does.”  
  
Making sure they were out of earshot, Raj stopped her. He looked her dead in the eye and lowered his voice, “Listen, I found something. I dunno if it’s important or not, but…” he dug through his pockets, pulling out a folded sheet of paper. “I figured if it could be, you should have it.”  
  
Taylor stared, first at Raj, then the paper. She unfolded it, finding rows of random letters lined up, some scratched out.  
  
“What am I looking at?”  
  
Raj positioned himself so he could see the paper, then pointed to a spot on the page. “I saw a tree while I was out lookin’ for some sweetsop, and there was _ this _ message carved into it. No clue what it means, but it might be a hidden message?”

  
  
_ zitkt'l rqfutk of ltexkozn, _

_egddozdtfz _

_zit atn ol lqytzn_

  
  
Underneath the text, there was a hastily scrawled symbol; Taylor turned the paper in several different directions. It was _ familiar _ but she couldn’t place where. _ Is it a… bug with pincers on the other end? _  
  
“Hey, what’s this thing?”  
  
“Oh! Yeah, that was a symbol I found carved next to it; I was in a rush, but I tried to replicate it best I could. Figured it seemed important.”  
  
With a nod, Taylor pocketed the paper. “Thanks, Raj. I’ll keep an eye out for other things like that. Your hunch is probably correct in that it’s _ at least _ worth looking into.”  
  
Proud to have helped, Raj flashed her with a wide grin. “Yea-heah! Up top!”  
  
After an intricate series of high-fives, they walked within earshot of the others by the pool bar. As Zahra got up from the bar and strode past them, Raj made a point to return to their previous conversation.  
  
“Anyway, sometimes it’s easier to push away the scary unknown then embrace it, even if that’s the best way to _ understand_, y’feel me?”  
  
Zahra gave Taylor and Raj a wordless nod, which prompted a ‘_sup, duuude_’ from Raj. Taylor, feeling slightly self-conscious, nodded back.  
  
She hoped no one heard them talking - she didn’t want to bother anyone with any wild goose chases _ just _ yet. If possible, she would contain the issue while involving only the smallest number of people. She glanced at Raj, someone who already proved to be indispensable, and felt a swell of both guilt and pride. He was wise beyond his years, but it seemed like no one really treated him with the level of respect he deserved. If her and Estela couldn’t figure this out, Raj would be the next person she’d go to.  
  
“Yeah, I do.” She looked Raj in the eyes, intending to portray as much gratitude as she could muster. “_Thank _ you, Raj.”  
  


* * *

  
Estela didn’t want to believe it. They were at the airstrip next to the hangar - the hangar that _ burned down. _  
  
Mouth agape, Estela watched as the padlock unlocked with ease, then as Lila clipped the keys back onto her carabiner. The hangar doors flew open and she stepped inside, gas can in tow.  
  
Soon, the only sound was Lila’s sickeningly cheerful humming, which echoed off of the hangar’s metallic walls.  
  
Her mind spun, trying to work out what could be happening. What was Lila’s motive? If Jake’s plane was _ already destroyed_, what was Lila _ doing _ here?  
  
...  
  
_ What if the fire _ ** _didn’t_ ** _ happen yet? _ _  
_ _  
_ The meaning didn’t sink in right away. Anger rose to the surface, a reaction natural to a shocked, helpless Estela. It didn’t line up - why _ Lila_? Was her hypothesis wrong, somehow? Estela didn’t have a chance to look inside the hangar to find out if Jake’s plane was destroyed.  
  
_ Did she… sabotage us? _  
  
Estela couldn’t wait to figure out what was going on - she had to _ act_! With the smell of gas reminding her of what was at stake, she launched forward.  
  


* * *

  
“Anyone need a top-up?” Raj asked, dutifully ducking behind the bar counter and coming back out with bottles of liquor and a shaker. Sean raised his glass with an appreciative smile.  
  
“Heyhey,” Michelle greeted Taylor, lifting her mostly-empty flute of champagne. Quinn kept to herself, drink hardly touched.  
  
“What’s up, Taylor?” Sean asked, smiling his oh-so-friendly smile. Quinn, who had been stealing looks at Michelle, gave Taylor a distracted greeting.  
  
Raj slid a drink in front of Taylor, who took it with an inquisitive expression.  
  
“Trust me.” He leveled her with a look that said ‘_would I steer you wrong?_’ Taylor took a sip, expecting it to have a sharp bite of liquor… but it didn’t.  
  
“Moscow Mule mocktail,” Raj boasted, grinning. “‘S got ginger beer - it’ll settle your stomach.”  
  
Sean shifted in his seat to face Taylor completely. “Caught a stomach bug?” he asked with a frown. Michelle’s interest piqued, her expression becoming stern.  
  
“_Bug_? Taylor, what’d I tell you? _ Rest_. You shouldn’t be out in the sun.”  
  
For once, the medical concern seemed appropriate; Taylor felt the oppressive sun batter down on her, bringing back an encore of lightheadedness.  
  
Taylor laid her head down on the bar and groaned, feeling a hand rub her back. It was strange that Michelle had mentioned _ telling her _ to stay in bed, presumably _ before_, when Diego went to ‘get help.’  
  
But, didn’t Diego say he _ didn’t _ ultimately bring Michelle up? Didn’t he say she just told _ him _ to let her rest?  
  
It was subtle - hell, it could just be Diego leaving out details he thought were inconsequential. But… could that point to another time inconsistency?  
  
Something tugged at Taylor - she couldn’t place exactly what. Her head perked up; she became largely unaware of what the friends surrounding her were saying. She had no proof to go on, but the feeling was _ strong_.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  


* * *

  
Sneaking around the side of the hangar had been simple, it was getting _ inside _ without being seen that had been difficult. The building wasn’t particularly big, so she had to take care - any moving shadow or misplaced sound would give her away.  
  
She was in position -- behind Jake’s _ intact _ plane -- and just needed Lila to walk in front of her. This was the part she hated: waiting.  
  
She was _ so close _ , both in proximity to a blissfully unaware Lila, and in stopping her. Thankfully, her extensive knowledge of pressure points would only prove useful in this scenario. She had _ one chance _ to get the drop and knew she had to make it count.  
  
Lila was far too upbeat, having upgraded from humming to singing. It was a sickening sight, and the longer she spent on creating an intricate gastrap, the more disgusted Estela felt.  
  
How? Why?  
  
Was Lila that good of a liar that she had everyone fooled? The shame Estela felt at _ trusting _ her was nearly palpable. The fact that she had believed, even for a second, that a _ Rourke International _ employee could be trustworthy, was shameful. It was abhorrent.  
  
Estela _ knew _ she was headed straight into danger when she boarded the plane, so why should it surprise her that giving someone the benefit of the doubt -- at Rourke’s resort, no less -- would bite her in the ass? And not just _ ’someone’ _ \- a _ dedicated employee of Rourke’s_. Why would they do anything but live and die by his word?  
  
If she had kept her skepticism, maybe she could have prevented this tragedy. Maybe the others could be _ safe _ by now back at Hartfeld and she could carry out her final mission in relative peace.  
  
It was almost funny - at first, she believed the others were liabilities, which is why she initially kept her distance. But, as she watched Lila deposit the last of the gas around the front of the plane, that wasn’t true, was it?  
  
She, _ Estela_, was the liability.  
  
It was her own slip in judgement that allowed this to happen, that allowed Lila to get off scot-free, that doomed her friends to this island.  
  
But… Estela could fix that mistake. Maybe she could make it right.  
  
No longer would her carelessness result in more lives lost. No longer would innocents spill blood while tyrants walked free.  
  
Lila stepped in front of Estela, stopping with her back turned. Estela curled her hand into a fist.  
  
_ No longer. _


End file.
